The Second Generation
by T.H.W
Summary: This is the third story in the Bright Eyes series, who knows, maybe I'll write more too. :-) Anyway, this is about Bright Eyes' and Racetrack's children who decide to take things into their own hands after tragedy strikes the streets of Manhattan.
1. Default Chapter

"The Second Generation"  
  
By: T.H.  
  
  
Anthony Michael "Grabs" Higgins, ran down the road, dodging carts and wagons as he did so. The bulls were right on his heels and they weren't letting up on their chase for him.   
  
Aw geez! Cain't dey give a guy a break? Where can I go? Where can I go? Cain't go home! Where, where, where?  
  
Grabs scanned the buildings that loomed before him. Finally he turned a corner and slammed through a door, hidden in the shadows of the building. He slammed the door and locked it, panting hard as he listened for the bulls outside the door. "Where'd he go? I thought I saw him go this way!" A male voice protested. "Joseph it isn't any use. These kids come and go and disappear into the woodwork. Its their life. You might as well give it up." The second voice said patiently. He had done this dozens of times, and the new officer, Joseph, was new to the job. "Lets go. I'll buy you a coffee." "Well, fine. But I aim to catch that little kid one of these days!" The first policeman said loudly. "Yeah sure. And every other little scallawag in New York right? Lets go."  
  
Grabs sat in the doorway listening till the footsteps died away. He sighed with relief and collapsed on the floor going through his pockets. "Well dey made such a big deal outta nothin'. It ain't like there ain't otha kids who gamble on da streets. Dat stupid kid was jest a sore loser! Ha! He didn't count on Grabs Higgins dats fer sure! Whatta sucka!" Grabs was so wrapped up in counting his winnings, that the white figure that decended the back staircase went unnoticed by him. But when the figure approached and a white hand fell on his shoulder, he gave a small yelp of surprise. "Good Lawd Medda! Ya nearly gave me a heart attack!" Medda's bright red hair came out of the shadows like a lamp, her face lit up with a smile.   
  
"Grabs Higgins. I should have known. What did you do now little man that you have to hide out in my theater?" Medda asked, smiling at the boy. Grabs stood up defiantly and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Well Medda, its a long story, an' I'll tell it to ya, fer a dime." Medda laughed. "I'll pass thank you. Why don't you just spare me paying because I'm an old friend?" Grabs rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Well, dat one kid Frankie Klaps, ya know the one who's too big fer his britches? Well he decided ta pick a bone wit' me. Sayin' dat he was da best kid cawd player in alla New Yawk. Well I wasn't about ta let dat go, so I challenged him. He thought he could beat Grabs Higgins! Well I showed him! I showed him good!" Grabs said triumphantly.   
  
"But what about the police? Obviously you did something bad, besides gambling of course." Medda pointed out. "Aw Medda, don't you get on me case about me gambling too!" Grabs whined. "Its a good profit maka! Anyway. Ol' Frankie gets kinda mad see. So we got unda a fight, and well we ended up knockin' ova a vegetable cart. An' well, I didn't tink dat I had ta lowa meself ta pick it up. Hey, he started the fight not me! So dats why da bulls was chasin' me." Grabs finished.  
  
Medda straightened with a sigh. "Grabs, you know you should be more careful. What would happen if you did something completely out of line and the police arrested your father and mother for it? What do you have to say about that?" Medda gazed at the eight year old boy's face, his brown eyes now very wide. "Would dey, do dat Medda?" Grabs asked, his voice quavering a bit. Medda looked down at him, her eyes softening, but her appearence remaining like stone. "Yes they most certainly would. And they wouldn't hesitate a moment either." Grabs' shoulders slumped against the wall. "Well, I guess I had betta be more careful about meself. Huh?" Medda smiled. "Of course darling. Now run along. I have a show in a few minutes and you can't hang around today. Go on." Medda said as she gently pushed Grabs to the door. "Bye Medda. I'll be betta teday!" Grabs called out as he shuffled back to the distribution office.  
  
  



	2. The Children

The office was filled with boys as usual, buying their papers and the like. Grabs jumped in the line joking with other boys as they walked by with their own papers. When he reached the distribution desk he slapped his money on the counter. "I want, fifty papes." The man in the office booth rolled his brown eyes and pulled the cigar out of his mouth. "Whaddya say kid?" Grabs sighed. "Please, gimme some papes Papa."   
  
Racetrack Higgins grinned at his son and tossed the papers on the counter. "Here ya go. How's it goin'?" Grabs shrugged and looked down as he felt a light hand tug his shirt. His tiny sister, Fairy, stood below him, waiting expectantly. Grabs sighed. "Papa, can I get 'bout thoity papes fer Fairy?" He asked, tossing the change on the counter. Racetrack grinned out the window at his second child who smiled back and waved shyly. "Hey Papa! Danks fer da papes!" Her tinny voice called. "Yer welcome sweetheart. I'll see you kids tenite alright. Don't be late." Racetrack cautioned as Grabs took Fairy's hand and walked off.  
  
Racetrack sighed as he watched his two eldest children walk away thinking of their past. It had been an interesting 8 years for Racetrack. In five years time, beginning at the age of seventeen, Bright Eyes had borne him eight children, his youngest, Taps now two years old. Racetrack and the other Newsies were thrilled with the children and managed to spoil them in any way possible, much to Bright Eyes' dismay. Grabs, the oldest child, was a picture perfect image of his father, not only in looks, but in his personality. Grabs, with his brown hair slicked back under his cap, big grinning brown eyes, and with cards in his pockets to be used in a quick poker game, looked and acted very much like Racetrack as a child. His tastes reflected that of his father as well. He loved the horse races. He loved selling papers. He loved poker and the chance to win money or anything for that matter, from some other unfortunate individual, and he adored his father. It showed. Wherever Racetrack was, Grabs was not far behind.  
  
Fairy, or Shailagh Anne Higgins, had come quickly, almost too quickly for Racetrack who had not yet gotten used to the fact of having three mouths to feed, that was now suddenly increased to four mouths to feed. But when she was born, she made up for all the worry. She was beautiful and her beauty grew as she grew. She was a complete opposite of Grabs, looking like her mother. With brown-gold curly hair, a fair complexion and her mother's trademark blue eyes, it seemed that the only thing she had inherited from Racetrack was his wide smile and his quick tongue. But though she resembled her mother, she was her father's pet. Often on Sunday afternoons just after Fairy had learned to walk, one could see the two of them walking hand in hand in Central Park. They made a funny pair the two of them, the tall, skinny boy and the small girl, trying to keep up with his large steps, till Racetrack slowed down to a crawl in order that she could keep up.  
  
Racetrack's other children, consisted of twin boys, Picks and Pockets, Cowboy, twin girls, Sunshine and Angel, and his son Taps. Each child was different and alike in their own unique likes and tastes. Picks and Pockets, a.k.a. Jack Andrew and Francis Matthew, were notoriously known among the Newsies as two of the cleverest pick pockets in Manhattan, hence the name. The two children were identical and inseparable. They did everything together no matter what. The two of them had straight dark brown hair, curiously enough, seeing that Racetrack's hair was wavy, and Bright Eyes' was all curl. They both sported thin athletic bodies, bodies that gave the suggestion of having a very short height, like their father. They like their brother Grabs, shared their father's tastes, but they were not nearly so open about them. The only thing that differed from the two and set them apart, was that while Picks sported his father's dark brown eyes, Pockets had coveted his mother's bright blue ones.  
  
Cowboy, a.k.a. Brian Patrick, the fifth child, was a joy to his family. He was all smiles, almost from the moment he was born. His first smile had been given to Jack Kelly, who immediately gave the child his Newsie name to be his own. Cowboy possessed a great gift to imitate anyone and anything with shocking ease. His brothers and sisters were constantly laughing at the small boy's imitations, that ranged from Mush's sudden worried outbursts to Joseph Pulitzer's hobble. He had picked up the art of selling papers almost immediately and was well known in almost all of Manhattan and Brooklyn. Cowboy had gained his mother's brown curly hair, which was a huge cross for him to bear in his opinion. He had his father's eyes, but he did not share in the likes of his father and brothers. He was more like his mother than any of the boys. He was a dreamer and was constantly thinking of things outside of New York City, worrying his mother to death with the worry that someday he would leave, out of curiosity for other places.  
  
Just as Picks and Pockets were identical, so were the twin girls Sunshine, a.k.a. Rachel Elizabeth, and Angel, a.k.a. Jenny Margaret, different. They unlike their rambunctious brothers, were not identical, each sporting a unique personality and look. Sunshine was the queerest looking child of the bunch, having wavy blonde hair and twinkling light brown eyes. Neither Bright Eyes nor Racetrack could figure out from where the blonde hair had come. Her personality was very much like her name. She was always cheery and bright, the optimist of the family. She possessed her father's wide smile and his humor, but her mother's whimsical personality, making her a kindrid spirit with her brother Cowboy.   
  
Though Sunshine and Cowboy had their mother's disposition, Angel was just like her mother to the fullest. There was no sign of Racetrack in the young girl's face or in her personality. She was all Bright Eyes, right down to her stubborn Irish chin. The perfect corkscrew curls, the bright, flashing blue eyes, and her stubborn personality, they were all Bright Eyes. Racetrack couldn't understand how stubborn a little girl could be, even at the tender age of four. She was a favorite of the Newsies, and a constant reminder to them of the little girl her mother used to be. She was an exact copy and if any of the Newsies were around her for even a brief five minutes, they would think that for those five minutes, they had gone back in time, and the little girl standing defiantly in front of them, was Bright Eyes O'Connor. Indeed, even Spot Conlon had a thing or two to say about the little girl. "Jest like her mama, dats all I kin say. Dats ta her advantage, an' sometimes a disadvantage." But despite his words, Spot spoiled her even more than the others did.   
  
The last Higgins child, was a boy. Taps, even at two years old, had an interesting pastime that amused himself and his family and friends. As soon as he could walk, he had begun to shuffle his feet across the floor, almost as if he were dancing. It threw his family into such gales of laughter, that he couldn't help but continue tutoring himself in this way. The day finally came, when the young lad amused his parents and brothers and sisters, with a dance that he had unknowingly composed, and had also unknowingly christened him. His small feet tapping with a resounding rhythm on the wooden floor of the distribution center, gave him his name.   
  
Taps had been brought to Brooklyn to see Spot when he was born, but he could only remember from when he went at age 1. That was the time that he could actually remember Spot. Taps loved Spot, and Spot likewise loved the toddler. Spot thought the child, with his straight blond hair, the color of his sister Sunshine's hair, and his dancing blue eyes, was absolutely perfect. Spot loved to sit on the docks with the small boy, while the child played with his slingshot, bouncing the rubber band off of his fingers. Spot watched him play, and inwardly thought,   
  
Someday, I'll teach dis kid all da stuff I know. Den he'll be da best slingshotter in all of New Yawk! Yeah, da "Slingshot".   
  
From then on, he was the "Slingshot" to Spot, and no one could convince him or Brooklyn to call him otherwise.   
  
Now Racetrack, at twenty six years old, had aged both inwardly and outwardly. Like many young families of the day, he had accepted family responsibilities at a young age, eighteen in fact. Before long, he had realized that selling the papes weren't going to be enough to support his gradually growing family. So he attempted to apply at the distribution office, taking the place of numerous men, some dishonest and some honest. Racetrack was a favorite at the distribution center, because he was known by everyone and he was honest in his work. Jack Kelly often swore that Racetrack would be sixty years old and he would still be working there, because the "World" couldn't afford to lose a guy like him.   
  
To Racetrack, Bright Eyes hadn't changed much since he had married her. She still remained the same, stubborn, lovable girl, those and all the other qualities that he had admired in her from the beginning. Like him, Bright Eyes didn't work as a Newsie any longer. She was also working in the distribution office, by shuttling the papers to him in the office when the next edition of the paper was printed. Granted, she still missed her life as a Newsie though. She didn't like being cooped up in the distribution office, but she always said, that it was better to be trapped in there with Racetrack than with the Delancys.   
  
The quick births of her eight children, though they were much loved, had taken a toll on Bright Eyes. Her body needed to recuperate, and thus, there was a two year gap for Taps to spend time with his family. Bright Eyes was a good mother to all of her children, giving each of them their designated time with her. She was never too busy to take care of the children and listen to their childish babbling while she worked. She had no favorites, and loved all of her children equally. Just as she was the same young girl to Racetrack, so was Racetrack the same young boy to her, even at age 26. She was 25, a year younger than her husband, and she didn't act it. She acted like she had at age sixteen, blithe and free, playing games with her children that she had learned long ago. She had even begun to teach Grabs how to use the slingshot that Spot had given him for his eighth birthday, and he was quite good at it.   
  
Each of the Higgins children had a designated favorite Newsie. Granted they loved all of them, but there was still a special one for each of them. Grabs' was the fun loving Kid Blink. Ever since he was a child, he could remember Blink coming into his parent's room at night, just to make sure that he was alright. When he got older, Blink made him toys and taught him how to play cards, along with Racetrack of course. Even after work hours, Grabs would seek out Blink and tell him about his day, while Blink packaged papers with a contented smile upon his face.   
  
Little Fairy, had her tender heart set on the lithe Snipeshooter. She loved him to the extent of her childish heart, right next to her love for her parents. It was as close to a crush as it could be for a girl of seven. Snipeshooter was her hero. Anything Snipeshooter said was the truth, and if anyone wanted to contradict it, they would have to deal with her. Anything Snipeshooter did, no matter how bad, was not really bad to Fairy. He was always right, and everything was good in her eyes. Snipeshooter knew that the little girl loved him, and he did everything he could to make her happy. Once it had even extended to him teaching her to play craps in an alley with a bunch of other boys, and it ended when the little girl bragged to her mother that, "I won ova three bucks at da craps Mama!" Fairy's gambling career was over then. Bright Eyes had warned Snipeshooter and he had promised to never do it again, much to Fairy's dismay. She attempted to admonish her mother, "Don't yell at Snipeshooter! He wasn't all dat bad!" That comment got her a little talk with her father, as well as a talk on gambling. But that incident still did not change her views on her special eighteen year old boy.  
  
Picks and Pockets were a different matter. They both liked the same person and fought over her daily. That poor individual was a girl from the corners of Brooklyn named Blue. Blue was not originally from Brooklyn however. She formerly lived in Manhattan where her older brother Kid Blink resided. She was somewhat of a distant friend of Bright Eyes, having known her in her childhood. But after Bright Eyes had left New York, she had gone to Brooklyn to be with the other boys there, knowing their attachment to her. Eventually, she even got around to confronting Spot about how he felt about Bright Eyes' deception, which was not a pretty sight. But in the end, Blue became one of Spot's staunchest supporters and one of Bright Eyes' enemies. But after Bright Eyes had returned and explained the whole situation, the friendship returned, even though it took longer for Spot to be so forgiving.  
  
The twin boys loved the blonde haired, blue eyed girl named Blue, and often begged their mother to allow them to visit Brooklyn to see her. She was their favorite, because to them, she was hardly a girl. Her hair was under her hat most of the time, save for a few golden wisps that had escaped the bundle, so on the outside, she appeared to be a fun loving boy who did everything boys did, and she wasn't a bad handler with a slingshot either. Afternoon hours often found the threesome down by the docks, playing craps, cards, shooting slingshots at stray bottles, and playing other games. Another reason that the boys liked to visit Blue, was so that they could tease the girl. They like their father had quick tongues, and they didn't bother to waste them. They knew that long before Blue had married Spot, that she had taken a certain liking to him, and always took the advantage of teasing her and him as often as they could. The twosomes reaction was always different. Blue would blush and tell the boys to shut up, taking up a different subject. Spot on the other hand would seemingly stare off into space and say something completely off the subject, making the boys burst into gales of laughter at their matchmaking.   
  
One such incident that left the boys in hysterics all weekend was when the boys approached Spot at the docks and asked, "Hey Spot! Kin we ask ya sometin'?" Spot looked down from his high perch quizzically. "Sure kids. What?" The twins stared at each other slyly before they looked back up to the boy. " Why does goils always git red when ya talks 'bout boys?" Spot looked at them a moment and rubbed his head. "Well I dunno. I guess dat means dat dey likes 'em or sometin'." Picks began to giggle hysterically, and Pockets punched him goodnaturedly as he spoke up, " I was jest aksin' 'cause Blue did dat when we asked if she had taken a likin' ta any famous peison in Brooklyn." The boys laughed hysterically as two spots on Spot's cheeks became a deep red, before he responded absentmindedly, "Ya know, if you boys want sometin' ta do you could jump in da riva. Good swimmin' dis time of yea." It was winter and the river was frozen. But now that the two were married, there was not much that the twins could exploit.  
  
Cowboy's choice was an obvious one. His favorite Newsie was Jack Kelly. At five, he worshipped the ground that Jack tread on, much like his sister Fairy did to Snipeshooter. Jack told him stories, of Santa Fe, of the deserts, of other places beyond Manhattan. He loved those places and yearned to see them. Already he had traveled the suburbs about New York City. And though he loved them all, Brooklyn, Queens, and the like, he still wanted to see other places besides New York, which Jack encouraged, frightening his mother. "He'll be leavin' home soon enough widout you tellin' him all those stories Jack Kelly!" She would often say goodnaturedly, but sadly. Just as Cowboy loved Jack, so did Jack love Cowboy. Even though Picks and Pockets were named after him, he still had a special affinity for the little boy. He had already given him his Western Jim comics, which Cowboy had devoured eagerly. Jack had also passed on to the boy his black Cowboy hat, which Cowboy wore everyday and pounded any kid who tried to pilfer it. Indeed, the companionship between the two was strong, Jack being reminded of his young brothers who had died so long ago, and Cowboy only knowing Jack as a loving, fun, almost older brother to him. Cowboy never knew of Jack's long past deceits, and Jack never volunteered it, waiting till the right time.   
  
Sunshine and Angel, unlike their twin siblings, did not like the same persons. Shy Sunshine, liked the quiet and sometimes humorous Mush, while Angel liked the famous Spot Conlon. Sunshine hung around with Mush all the time that she wasn't with her siblings selling papers. Mush, who worked with the newspaper machines, was glad to have the child's company, even if she did babble about silly things most of the time. Every child of Bright Eyes was a welcome one, and he was glad that this little beauty liked him.  
  
The determined Angel, having her likings set on twenty-five year old Spot Conlon, was often in Brooklyn, it being merely across the bridge. Spot had already taught the 4 year old to shoot a slingshot and already she was better than her brother Grabs. He took her about Brooklyn, showing her her mother's and his favorite play sites and hangouts. She loved these walks with Spot, just holding his large hand and listening to him talk was enough for her. Often, she would fall asleep on his chest as he told stories of the past to the rest of her siblings, and Spot would smile, his gray eyes twinkling and would hand her to her mother, who grinned and took her up to bed. Angel also liked to swim in the river that ran under the Brooklyn Bridge, Spot's keen eyes watching her all the while from his perch on the docks. She wouldn't understand though when she would come up to Spot with some childish notion, and she could almost see a glint of wetness in his eyes as he answered. Then afterward he would murmur to himself, "Jest 'zactly like Bright. Down to da bone she's jest like 'er." Indeed, it was almost uncanny how an older Spot seemed to be playing with the young girl that he had grown up with.  
  
As it was said before, little, two year old Taps also liked Spot. Spot had his affinity for Angel because she was so like her mother, but he still loved the small, blonde haired lad, for his own reasons. For one thing he was named after him, Michael Paul. Because he was only two and hadn't begun talking very much as of late, Spot had tried to teach him words and had been doing this since he was barely one. Taps' first word, though one could barely make it out, was, "Spa." Now of course the boy could say "Spot" clearly, but it had touched Spot's tough heart to hear the lisping word that the boy had called him. Spot had almost adopted Taps, he was so fond of him. Many times he would come to Bright Eyes and "take da little fella out fer a bit," when he didn't come back till suppertime. When they came back Taps would babble on and on excitedly while Spot would calmly translate, his hands in his pockets. It was well seen that Taps would always love Spot above all of the other Newsies.  
  
  



	3. A Shot

Racetrack handed out papers automatically, it was so easy, this job. He merely had to take money, put it in the cash box and hand out papers. "Tank goodness I kin count!" Racetrack snickered as he remembered the unfortunate Morris Delancy, who couldn't, the fact that Jack had often exploited. Bright Eyes came up from behind him, her cheeks red from the heat, her arms full of papers as she plopped them down on the counter, taking no notice of him. Racetrack smiled and deftly leaned across and kissed her on the cheek.  
  
Bright Eyes looked up and grinned as the boy waiting for his papers watched. "Geez Race! You'd tink dat dey was payin' ya ta kiss yer goil, instead of givin' out papes!" The boy said, his eyes gleaming. Racetrack rolled his eyes and plopped the papers on the counter. "Shudup Tenor! I don't see you smoochin' any goil now do I? Ya cain't get a goil fer miles around 'cus she knows dat ya stink at sweet talkin'! I on the udda hand am merely a charma! Look at da beautiful wife I gots! How did I gets her?"   
  
"She asked you ta marry her?" A voice from the back interrupted. "Yeah, dats da onliest way. Race couldn't get up da guts ta ask her fer real!" Another voice blurted out. Tenor burst out laughing as Racetrack turned red and waved his fist goodnaturedly at the boys. "Aw, get outta hea! I gots woik ta do an' so do you! Get out! Come on, next custama!" Tenor moved out of the line, still doubled over with laughter. Bright Eyes smiled and kissed Racetrack on the cheek, walking back to the back room to get the next load of papers. Racetrack grinned and watched her leave, his head on his hands, totally forgetting his job.  
  
"Um hello. Eaith ta Race! I'd like some papes." Racetrack sat up quickly and found himself looking into the gleaming, brown eyes of Jack Kelly. "Kelly, you ain't been gettin' papes in ages!" Jack laughed. "I know. But I promised yer kid Cowboy dat I would show him da arts of sellin'." Racetrack looked at Jack, remembering when he had made the same offer to David, a small action before the strike had changed their lives forever. "You'se gonna teach my kid da arts? Cowboy, I'm trilled! I'm honored!" Jack rolled his eyes and smiled at his friend. "Hunred papes Race." Race smiled and pulled out the papers with a flourish. "Tanks ol' pal." Jack said gratefully. "Jack, you take care of my kid. An' no talkin' 'bout Santa Fe an' nothin' no how! You undastand?" Bright Eyes' voice projected from the back room. Racetrack and Jack bent over, laughing quietly. "Elephant ears!" Jack whispered between laughs, causing Racetrack to laugh harder. "I don't hear any answers out dere!" Bright Eyes yelled again. "Yeah sure Bright! I'll take care of him!" Jack laughed as he stumbled away. "Don't do dat da whole time Cowboy, somebody will tink yer drunk!" A sixteen year old Fish called. "Hey Race. Hundred papes." Fish said smiling as he watched Racetrack catch his breath, grabbing the counter for support.  
  
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Jack laughed to himself as he made his way back to the Greeley statue where he was supposed to meet five year old Cowboy. He had offered to teach the boy all his tricks, and the boy, his brown eyes shining, had at once accepted. As Jack approached the statue, his ears caught the sounds of yelling. When he got closer he saw what was going on. Cowboy was sitting on top of a larger boy and punching him in the face. The larger boy was shielding his face and trying to take his own punches from time to time. Jack saw with a groan, that the larger boy had the black cowboy hat clenched in his fist. "Give it back I tell ya!! I'll knock yer eyes right outta yer head if'n ya don't!" Cowboy yelled between punches. "OW! Quit it Higgins! I don't hafta give ya nothin'! Yer jest a spoiled brat ya know dat! Not even sharin' yer stuff! OW!"   
  
Suddenly, the cheers from the boys watching the fight died out as Jack appeared on the scene. Cowboy lifted his head and grinned as his favorite Newsie came into sight. He landed a final punch on the boy, grabbed his hat and settled it on his head as he stood up. "Hey ya Cowboy! I was jest settlin' some business!" Jack smothered a smile with difficulty. "Some business. Does it involve killin' dat kid?" Cowboy grinned from under the hat, which practically overshadowed his upper face. "Yeah well, he said dat you didn't give me dis hat. Den he took it. Den he said he betted dat you wasn't even gonna come an' teach me ta sell papes! I had ta Cowboy! I had ta!" Cowboy insisted.  
  
"I didn't wanna start a fight! Dat was all yer doin' Higgins! I was jest havin' a little fun!" The older boy whined as he brushed himself off. Jack glared at the boy. "Yeah, well I'm here. An' Cowboy ain't lyin'. So I tink you betta git goin'." The older boy glared right back at Jack to his surprise. "Yeah, says who? You ain't my boss. An' plus my pop says dat you ain't nothin' but a phony! An' a softie baby!" Jack's eyes narrowed. "Yeah? An' whats yer pop's name?" "I think you already know the answer to that question Cowboy." An all to familiar voice cut in. Jack groaned inwardly as the figure of Oscar Delancy came into view.   
  
"Long time no see, eh Cowboy? Oh, and I see that you are still leading little kids to corruption. He yours?" Oscar sneered as he stood behind his son. "No he ain't mine. He's Race's." Oscar's eyes widened. "He ain't yours? Oh that must mean that you and little Sarah didn't get together eh? Does that mean that Race and Bright Eyes got hitched then? Amazing." Cowboy's figure straightened and his lips curled angrily. "You leave my Papa an' Mama alone! Ya big knuckle head!" Jack laughed aloud as Oscar looked at the little boy truely for the first time. Only then did he realize Cowboy's mistake. Oscar smiled and smacked Cowboy across the head, knocking the boy to the hard pavement. Jack crossed the distance between himself and Oscar quickly and grabbed his collar, pushing him up against a wall. "Oh dat was a big mistake Osca. A big mistake. Listen, if you've got a problem wit' Race or Bright Eyes, or any of dere kids, you come ta me an' we'll settle it. You got dat?" Oscar grinned and pushed Cowboy away, pulling a pistol out of his coat.   
  
Jack's eyes widened at the sight of the gun. "I've moved up in the world Jackie-boy. I don't need lousy fist fights to prove my point. I've got this little baby to do it for me. This baby and over a thousand guys spread all over New York. I've got a name Cowboy. Don't mess with me." Jack watched Oscar, his mouth curled and his hands on the gun. "So yer really gonna shoot me in front of yer own kid. Dats real nice Osca. You haven't changed a bit." A shot rang out from the gun, missing Jack's side by mere inches. "I said don't mess with me Cowboy." As Oscar trained his gun on Jack for the second time, yells rang out from across the plaza. "STOP! Put the gun down!" The boy, Oscar's son yelled to him frantically. "Pop! Its da bulls!" Oscar whirled around to face Jack and quickly fired. Jack sank to the ground as the bullet entered his shoulder. Oscar laughed as he put the gun away and grabbed his son. "I've waited a long time for this Cowboy. The day when I could take you out without a word and without you running your mouth." Oscar then sank into the shadows of a near-by alley as the police arrived.   
  
Cowboy ran to Jack, his eyes wide with horror. "Jack! Jack I'm so sorry! Its all my fault! Its all my fault!" Cowboy cried, tears filling his eyes. Jack smiled weakly and put his hand on the little boy's face. "Don't worry. It was jest my smart mouth gitting me in trouble as usual. Listen Cowboy, don't eva, eva mess wit' dat kid again, no matta what he does to you. Okay? Don't eva do anytin' to him." Cowboy nodded his head quickly as the policemen arrived, asking questions.  
  
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The shot was heard for great distances. One of the places it was heard was the distribution center. Racetrack lifted his head as he heard the first shot ring out, but merely dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. But when a second shot rang out, he did not dismiss it. Against his advice, Tenor ran out to see what was going on. When he came back a few minutes later, his face was pale as he told the news to the boys and to Bright Eyes and Racetrack. "Somebody shot Cowboy!" Bright Eyes grabbed Racetrack for support as her legs seemed to give way. Racetrack's face drained. "Cowboy."   
  
Tenor, then realized his mistake. "Oh not yer Cowboy! Jack! Jack got shot! He was protectin' Cowboy! Cowboy's fine." Bright Eyes sighed with relief. Racetrack on the other hand left the distribution office. "Take me to 'em." He said fiercely. "Race don't do dis! You could git hurt!" Bright Eyes called after him. Racetrack turned back to her, his face set stubbornly. "I gotta go ta Cowboy. An' Jack. I've stuck by him all dis time an' I ain't leavin' him now. Fish watch Taps." Racetrack added. Bright Eyes rolled her eyes. "Den I'm goin' with ya!" She exclaimed as she ran to join him. Racetrack sighed. "You don't give up do ya?" She smiled. "Nope." Then the three of them set out for the plaza.  
  
The plaza was filled with policemen and bystanders. Racetrack and Bright Eyes worriedly searched the crowd for their son. He was found sitting at the base of the Greeley statue, his head in his hands. "Cowboy!" Bright Eyes gasped out loud. Cowboy's head raised, his face red with crying. "Momma!" The strangled yell touched all the bystanders as the little boy rushed into his mother's open arms, Bright Eyes having to kneel down in order to catch her son. "Momma, it was all my fault! I got in a fight wit' da bad guy's kid an' den his Pop shot Jack! An' now Jack's at da hospital all alone! Its all my fault!" Cowboy sobbed into his mother's shoulder, Bright Eyes reassuring him quietly.   
  
Racetrack and Tenor left Bright Eyes and Cowboy at the statue, as they looked for someone who could give them answers. They found their source, a stocky policeman who was asking a little boy questions. " 'Scuse me mistah? I'm um, Anthony Higgins an' my son an' best friend was involved in da little thing that jest happened. I wanna know what happened 'zactly." Racetrack said uneasily as the policeman focused his small eyes on him. "Your son? The little boy?" Racetrack nodded. "Well thats a different matter then. Well there was a shooting. As far as we could figure out from your friend, um, Jack Kelly I believe it was. Anyway, the most we could figure out is that the man who shot your friend was an aquaintance of himself and of the father of that boy. Meaning you I suppose." Racetrack's eyes widened. "So I know who dis is? Did Cowboy, I mean, Jack identify 'im?" The policeman shook his head dejectedly. "No, he passed out from loss of blood unfortunately. But we've got a lid on it. We are going to be on alert from now on so that it doesn't happen again."   
  
Racetrack nodded. "Yeah, well thanks mistah." Racetrack turned back to Tenor as the policeman walked off. "Somebody I know? Who in da woild do I know dat would take a shot at Cowboy?" Tenor laughed suddenly under his breath. "Maybe it was Spot! Sometimes he acts like he wants ta shoot people when he gits angry!" Racetrack grinned at the idea and smacked Tenor, who was now laughing hysterically. "Cool it will ya. It wasn't Spot. He ain't dat stupid. He's stupid sometimes but not dat bad." Bright Eyes approached Racetrack, her arms carrying the little boy, whose head was buried in her neck. "Race, I've gotta take Cowboy home. He ain't feelin' too good. An' plus we gotta git back to da office." Racetrack nodded and ran his hand through Cowboy's curly hair fondly. "Sure, me an' Tenor will be there in a minute. Go ahead an' take Cowboy home I kin watch the office alone fer da rest of da day." Bright Eyes nodded gratefully and started home, her arms still clasped protectively around her son.  
  
"Yer jest gonna drop it! Like dat? You ain't gonna try an' figure out who it was dat shot Jack?" Tenor burst out. "No I ain't. I'll talk ta Cowboy lata, but now I gotta worry about two tings. My job, an' my kids. My kids an' family is numba one on my list. But I hafta woik ta support 'em, so how would you like ta take Bright's place, Whiny?" Racetrack questioned Tenor. Tenor folded his arms across his chest in defeat. "Fine I'll help. But jest fer teday. No more, no less." As the two walked back to the distribution office, Racetrack suddenly stopped in his tracks.  
  
"I jest remembered sometin'. All of my kids wit' da exception of Taps is out sellin' papes. Alone. Grabs an' Fairy is wit' each udda, an' so is Picks an' Pockets. Sunshine an' Angel is okay, dey's wit' Spot. But still, dey're all out there. Alone." Tenor sighed. "Yeah, but like ya said, Taps is still at da distribution office wit Fish. So hadn't we betta be gettin' back befoa Fish goes nuts?" Racetrack paused for a moment more then turned and began to walk slowly and reluctantly back toward the distribution office. "If anytin' happens to those kids," He said worriedly. "Race, nothin' is gonna happen to those kids. They was street smart from da moment dey was born. Dey can take care of themselves. So don't worry 'bout it." Racetrack nodded. "Yeah, yer right Tenor." Tenor rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm right! I'm always right!"   
  
Racetrack smiled broadly as he approached the distribution offices. There was a long line of chattering boys waiting for papers and running among them was Fish. He was chasing a laughing blonde haired boy, who was weaving in and out among the boys, shrieking with laughter. As Taps approached where Racetrack and Tenor were standing, Fish scooped him up, panting. Taps giggled and squirmed in his arms as Fish stood in front of Racetrack and Tenor, panting. "Yer kid, is fast." Fish gasped between breaths. As Taps reached out for Racetrack, Racetrack took him into his arms and plopped him on his shoulders, where the little boy sat still, looking about him. Fish rolled his eyes as he looked at the little boy, now still and contented.   
  
"Say Race, how come he's still fer you, but not fer me?" Racetrack smiled. " 'Cause he knows dat I'm his dad an' yer not." Racetrack said with a smile as he entered the distribution office with Taps still on his shoulders, cooing with happiness. "Hundred papes Race." A young boy said, putting his money on the counter as he spoke. "Papes!" A shrill voice rang out from above the boys. Racetrack looked up curiously. Taps was bouncing on his shoulders and grinning at the boy behind the counter. "Papes!" Taps shrieked again. Racetrack grinned. "Well whaddya know. Dis kid knows his business already! Whaddya tink Tenor?" He asked Tenor as the boy wheeled in more papers from the back room. "I tink dat he should enjoy da time off dat he's got. He'll be woikin' his finga's to da bone soon enough. Ya hear dat?" Tenor asked the little boy. Taps merely smiled at Tenor and grasped the finger that Tenor offered him.   
  
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"C'mon Sunshine! The wata ain't cold! Its poifect! Spot, tell Sunshine dat da wata's poifect!" Little Angel yelled up to Spot who was sitting on the pier. Spot smiled and glanced at Sunshine, who wouldn't immerse herself totally like her sister. She merely stood at the edge of the water primly and soaked her bare feet. Angel on the other hand was totally soaked, her curly hair now straight from the water. She had jumped in fully clothed and then proceeded to splash every person in sight, with the exception of Spot. "I know it ain't cold Angel! I kin feel it! I jest don't wanna go in." Sunshine protested tossing her blonde head. "Angel, its okay. Just keep it down. Sunny don't hafta go in if she don't want ta." Spot reasoned, watching the little girl in the water.  
  
Angel rolled her bright blue eyes and dove under the water. Spot smiled. He could always handle Angel, even when she was at her stubbornest.   
  
Jest like her mudda. Spot thought with satisfaction.   
  
"Spot! Spot! Dere's trouble in Manhattan!" Spot turned around slowly to face his comrade, Red, who was approaching the docks at a fast pace. "Whatsa matta Red? Ya look like somebody's chasin' ya or sometin'." Spot commented as Red approached him. "Yeah well I wish it was dat Spot. Cowboy an' Jack got inta some trouble down in Manhattan dis aftanoon." Spot's eyes darkened. "Bright's Cowboy? An' Jack?" Red nodded. "What happened to 'em? Is Cowboy okay? An', Jack?"   
  
"Cowboy's okay. Race an' Bright have got 'im. But Jack didn't come out of it very good Spot. He got shot in da shoulda. Nothin' big, but still serious enough ta tell ya." Red said, finally catching his breath. "Whatsa matta Spot!" Spot looked down at his now wet knee where Angel had laid her small hands a few moments ago. "Jest some trouble happened. Nothin' you needs ta worry 'bout." Angel was silent for a few moments, her forehead rumpled. "Obviously its sometin', 'cause ya ain't actin' like its nothin'. What happened ta Cowboy an' Jack?" Red chuckled. "Dat little goil has got more insight dan a whole lot of us put togedda." Spot sighed. "Yeah, its infuriatin'." Then he looked down at the young determined face. "Cowboy an' Jack got in an' accident. Cowboy's alright, but Jack ain't."   
  
Angel's face went white and her face was accompanied by the white face of Sunshine. "Is Momma an' Poppa okay?" Sunshine whispered. Red nodded. "Dey's okay. Its jest Jack dat got hoit kid." Sunshine gave a sigh of relief but Angel's face was still white and drawn. "What about da rest of us?" Spot's face registered in confusion. "Whaddya mean kid?" Angel took a deep breath. "Da rest of us. Picks an' Pockets, Taps, Grabs, an' Fairy. Da rest of us. Are dey okay?" Spot's face relaxed as he understood the little girl's quaint words. "I dunno. I guess dat dey're okay." Angel drew in her breath and stood as tall as her small frame could permit. "I wants ta look fer 'em an' make sure dat dey're okay." Spot looked at the girl warily. "How's we gonna do dat? Dis is a big city kid, in case ya haven't noticed. Dey could be anywhere." Angel rolled her eyes and patted Spot's leg almost sympathetically. " Don't be silly. I don't mean by ourselves. Send out da boys. Dey kin spread out betta dan we kin." Spot was silent a moment and then laughed loudly. He then turned to Red. "Well Red, you heaid da captain. Call out da cavalry! Send 'em all ova da city. You got dat?" Red nodded, his face full of mirth as he watched the leader of Brooklyn being ordered about by a small four year old.  
  
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	4. Grabs' Discovery

  
"Family boined in fire! Nobody escapes! Many lives destroyed!" Grabs yelled out the headline, secretly laughing as people bought the papers. The real headline was, "Factory burns down! No one injured save that of a nest of rats!" Fairy stood on the other corner where Grabs could see her, yelling another false headline. He loved this. Poppa had told him that it wasn't the greatest trade a man could have, but it helped keep your stomach full. It was gospel to Grabs, and he believed that gospel and lived by it. Of all his brothers and sisters, he was the most passionate about this work. It didn't tire him as it did others. He was a natural. To him, there was nothing else in the world that he'd rather be doing.   
  
The clock tower over Manhattan chimed six times, long and loud. Grabs sold one more paper then, shoved the rest, two papers, into a garbage can and went to fetch his sister. "So how'd ya do Fairy?" Fairy grinned and pointed to her empty bag. "Well geez, ya don't need ta brag about it!" Grabs fired at her indignantly. Immediately, Fairy's eyes softened and her elation disappeared. She grabbed Grabs' arm as he strode away from her. She pulled and pulled till he turned to face her. "What?!" He yelled. Grabs looked into the little girl's blue eyes which were now about to brim over with tears. "I'm sorry Grabs. Didn't mean ta. I'll try not ta sell 'em all next time. I jest had so many good ideas from da headlines dat I couldn't help it! Honest. Don't be mad fereva Grabs!"   
  
Grabs grinned and patted the little girl's arm. "Sure an' I didn't mean it Fairy. I was jest playin' wit' ya. Ya do a good job sellin', an' maybe someday you'll be as good as Spot Conlon. Maybe betta." Fairy's eyes went wide at the praise, and her grin stretched from ear to ear. "Really Grabs? Ya tink so?" Grabs sighed and patted his sister on the back. "Of course I does. Ya tink I'd make it up? Not likely. C'mon! Lets go ta Tibby's an' I'll treat ya to a little sometin'. It is almost time fer grub! An' I am starvin' sometin' awful!" Grabs and Fairy walked gaily along the darkening roads to Tibbys, till Fairy stopped short and pulled on Grabs' arm quickly.  
  
"What in da woild? Ya nearly pulled me ova!" Fairy motioned Grabs to be quiet and pointed to one of the alleys nearby. Grabs squinted in the dim light and made out two shady figures slinking into the darkness. "C'mon Fair, lets see what dey're up ta. Dey might be robbers an' we could be famous if'n we toin 'em in." Grabs took Fairy's hand and grasped it tightly, ignoring her pale, worried face. The two children hid in the shadows of the alley in order to listen in on the conversation. One of the figures was tall, the other short, but nothing else could the children make out in the dim light. They looked around them to make sure that they had not been followed, and then began to speak.  
  
"I'm tellin' ya, dat was too close doin' the job out in public!" The taller figure insisted. "Easy nobody knows but Cowboy, an' he's still unconsious. An' plus I didn't finish the job. I only got him in the shoulder. The final business is gonna be done soon enough." The shorter figure whispered confidently. Grabs, upon hearing a small whimper, looked down at Fairy. Her face was even whiter than it had been and she was trembling. "Dey did sometin' ta Cowboy! My poor little brudda!" Grabs hissed at her and fiercly covered her trembling mouth, but the words still rang in his ears, and he wondered if the men meant his Cowboy.  
  
"Look it'll be okay. Race an' Bright still have no clue. They just have to stay clueless right?" The shorter man whispered fiercely. The taller man nodded still looking around them suspiciously. "I still think that it isn't safe here. What if someone is listening in?" The shorter man smacked the taller man's arm. "Don't be stupid. Nobody has any reason to suspect us remember! So stop tryin' to wig me out!" Grabs scoffed. "A whole lot dey know, eh Fairy?" Grabs smiled encouragingly at his sister, who still rested in the crook of his arm, white and trembling. The two men then walked away, still argueing, though it became incoherant as they walked down the alley. "Kin we go now Grabs? I'm awfully afeard!" Fairy whispered. Grabs smiled at her. "Sure. We'll go, but I wanna follow 'em jest fer a little bit. I wanna see who dey was talkin' 'bout."  
  
As he began to stand, he was jerked back down hard. He looked down and saw Fairy holding fast to his coat. "Leggo Fairy! I gots ta do dis! Dey mentioned Momma an' Poppa, so I's gonna find out why dey did. Jest stay here an' wait fer me." Grabs whispered as he yanked his coat out of his sister's small hands. Fairy stood alone in the darkness after Grabs had pattered away into the darkness. She stood there and tear after tear began to slip down her cheek as she waited. Then she walked out of the dark alley, her head down, her dark curls bobbing gently about her face. Because her head was down she didn't see the figure that loomed before her and lifted her up in its arms. She gave a small, short, yell then did something she had never done in her entire life. She fainted.  
  
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Grabs finally caught up with the two figures outside an old house. They were argueing again. He had no regrets about leaving Fairy. She was big, she could take care of herself. It was that thought that he consoled himself with, although small fears for her safety crept softly into his mind. Instead of focusing on Fairy, he focused entirely on the conversation. "Look, we are fine. We just hafta lay low for a bit, till we can strike again!" The smaller man yelled. "Yeah, but what do we do till then? Pick off little old ladies or something? No! I want to get this business done with as soon as possible!" The taller man yelled back at the other. "We will. We just need to be patient. Like I said, Race is clueless and as long as he is all we have to do is hit him with something he isn't ready for. But not yet. In the meantime, put the boys on full alert. Make sure they spread the word." The smaller man said confidently, patting the taller man on the shoulder. The two then walked away into the shadows.   
  
Grabs crinkled his forehead in thought.   
  
It don't make no sense. What do dey hafta do wit Poppa. If its Poppa dat dey's talkin' 'bout. I gotta git back ta Fairy. She's probably goin' nuts widout me.   
  
With that Grabs took off back in the direction he came, till he arrived at the alley. "Fairy? Fairy where are ya? Okay I'm sorry I left ya alone. Ya can come out now! Hello? Hello? Fair," A hand from behind stifled the name and Grabs was pulled to the ground as he squirmed trying to free himself. "Hey Grabs cut it out will ya! Lessn yer jest purposely trying ta poke me eyes out! Now stop it or so help me I'll whack ya one wit' me cane!" Grabs stopped squirming and squinted at the face.   
  
Spot's kind but fierce gray eyes came back at him in the dark. Grabs gave a sigh of relief and grabbed Spot's neck gratefully. "Easy kid. Don't cut off me coiculation alright?" Grabs let go of Spot and it was only then, that he lost his nerve and began to sniffle, then cry. "Oh Spot! Its awful! I done a terrible ting! I done wanted ta folla some strangas 'cause I taught dat dey was tawkin' 'bout Momma an' Poppa when it toins out dey wasn't! An' I left Fairy all alone in da dark an' dat was real mean 'cause I know dat she hates dark sometin' awful! An' now I cain't find her an' its all my fault!" Grabs finished with a rush of breath. Spot patted Grabs' shoulder sympathetically. "Now, dats all well an' good I guess. I's got a surprise fer ya." Spot motioned to Grabs who followed him over to the entrance of the alley.   
  
Fairy was lying on the ground, her eyes closed tightly and her hands clasped together tightly. "Oh no. I killed her didn't I Spot? She's done been killed by one of dose guy's honcho's. Jest tell me da truth Spot." Grabs whispered gravely. Spot smiled gently. "She ain't dead she's jest fainted. She's fine. Now lets get you kids home okay?" Spot grasped Fairy's body in his strong arms and began to walk away slowly. "Here, hold me cane will ya? I cain't carry her an' da cane at da same time." Grabs gratefully took the cane and attempted to keep up with Spot's long strides.  
  
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Racetrack was sitting at his chair at the kitchen table with his food in front of him, tapping the table nervously. He and Bright Eyes were the only ones not eating the food, while the rest of his children ate hungrily. They were all there, with the exception of Grabs and Fairy, and he was getting worried. It was now seven o'clock, past time for when the two should have been home. He was just on the verge of deciding to go out when a loud knock on the door startled his thoughts. To his surprise, Bright Eyes was out of her chair before he was and she was dashing madly towards the door. She opened it quickly and gave a short gasp. "She ain't dead Spot? She's okay ain't she."   
  
Racetrack turned the corner and his heart leapt in his throat as he saw his daughter's limp body in the capable hands of Spot Conlon. "She's okay Bright. Hey Race. Jest came by ta make a few deliveries." Racetrack looked down and saw his small son standing close to Spot, his face white. He looked up at Spot as he continued, after handin Fairy to Bright Eyes, who clutched her daughter to her closely. "Found 'em wandrin' around one of da alley's near Tibby's. I was goin' back ta Brooklyn afta droppin' off Angel an' Sunny, an' I saw her. I knew she had ta be one of yer's so I approached her. An' I swear she jest fainted dead away in me arms. Neva seen her do dat. Found Grabs aftawoids."   
  
Spot glanced down at Grabs who looked at him gratefully. "How kin I eva tank ya enough Spot? Won't ya stay fer a little food?" Bright Eyes asked her childhood friend with a concerned tone to her voice. "Naw, I gots some stuff waitin' fer me back at home. But danks anyway Bright. I'll see ya Race. An' ah, keep an' eye on both of 'em, but 'specially Grabs. He had quite a scare back dere. See ya lata kids!" Spot yelled across the room. Several "good-bye's" were thrown back at Spot and he grinned. He patted Grabs on the shoulder and then walked out the door.   
Racetrack looked down at Grabs who shuffled in the door and stood still in his father's presence, Bright Eyes having gone to put Fairy to bed. "Whassa matta kid? What happened?" The next thing Racetrack knew, he was sitting down in a near-by chair with his son on his lap, sobbing his heart out. "I was so scared Poppa! It was so dark an' I tought dat Fairy got stolen away somewhere an' I was gonna git in trouble an' it was all my fault! It was so scary!" Racetrack smiled and rubbed his son's head gently. "Its okay kid. Yer safe now. Its okay. We both had kinda've a scary day huh?" Grabs nodded with a shivery hiccup. "Its okay, its okay now. Yer safe." Racetrack whispered as he rocked his son gently.  
  
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The next morning, Racetrack stirred and groaned. In his brain, he knew that he had to keep his children safe to the best of his ability. He knew that they wouldn't like it.   
  
Heck, I woulda hated dat if dat had happened ta me! I mean, not sell papes? I woulda gone nuts. 'Course I didn't have any parents ta bring in some extra cash.   
  
He sighed and opened his eyes, blinking in the morning sun. He looked up at the window, the dark peices of cloth that served as curtains, becoming illuminated with the sunlight. Racetrack looked at the girl who was still sleeping on the bed beside him.   
  
My dream come true. The only one dat did.   
  
Racetrack thought as he touched her cheek gently. Bright Eyes murmured in her sleep and shifted, then her eyes opened. The blue globes stared at Racetrack and she smiled.   
  
"Whats da matta? Couldn't sleep or sometin'? Or am I jest keepin' ya up?" Bright Eyes asked with a smile. Racetrack grinned and stroked her face. "Sometin' like dat. Actually, I was jest wondrin' what I'm gonna say to da kids. I mean, I cain't let 'em all go out on dere own anymore! Not wit' dat peison dat shot Jack wandrin' da streets. I cain't do dat. I hafta protect 'em somehow. A few kin go out an' sell, but only on certain boundries, and da uddas kin stay an' help at da office. Am I overeactin'?" Racetrack asked as Bright Eyes smoothed his hair.  
  
"No, you ain't. I undastand, 'cuz I feel da same way. I mean, I wanna keep most of 'em as safe as possible too. You ain't overeactin' Tony." Bright Eyes murmured with a smile, using her nickname for her husband. Racetrack rolled his eyes. "Tony. Why da heck would ya use dat?" Bright Eyes laughed. "I like it dats why. Racetrack is good, but it ain't yer given name. I like it. Fits ya." Racetrack smiled. "Of course it fits me. Its my given name! Alright Shay?" Racetrack said with a sly grin. Bright Eyes rolled her eyes and jumped out of bed, hitting him with a pillow as she went. "Lets git goin' so we kin break da bad news Race." Racetrack groaned and pulled a shirt over his head. "Yeah. Lets break hearts."   
  
The Higgins children didn't like it much that they weren't allowed to go out as far as they used to, without a grownup that is. They all protested greatly. "But Momma! We kin take care of ourselves! We's been doin' dis since we was as old as Taps!" Grabs insisted. "Dats a bit of an exaggeration." Racetrack murmered, looking at the gurgling baby. "I don't neva wanna go back an sell papes." Fairy said softly as she gripped her mother's hand tightly. When she had woken up from her frightened stupor, she had remained frightened and scared. She couldn't and wouldn't be separated from Bright Eyes and if her mother had to go, she attached herself to Racetrack. Cowboy also remained in a similar condition. He wouldn't go out of the sight of his parents and refused to play with anyone, for fear that "the boy" would come back and his Poppa would shoot him like he had done to Jack.  
  
Racetrack wished that he could help his children in some way. It made him feel helpless and helplessness wasn't a welcome feeling in his mind. It made him feel weak. He didn't like these feelings. It made him think that he wasn't worthy to be a husband or a father, if he couldn't protect those that he loved. His children did have the protection of all the Newsies in Manhattan, and Spot had offered himself and Brooklyn as well, but still, Racetrack knew that there would be a time when his children and wife would be unguarded.  
  
Curiously enough, Grabs had seemingly not been effected by the previous night's excursion. Though he had fallen asleep from exhaustion after crying into his father's chest, he had awoken the next morning without even mentioning the previous night's events. In fact, to his parents, he seemed to not remember at all. But they were wrong. Grabs did remember. He refused to show it however. He would be brave like his father and Spot and not say a word about it. In his mind, to not be allowed to go to his usual haunts to sell, was an invasion on his being. He could take care of himself and his brothers and sisters, though he had failed Fairy the previous night. He still blamed himself for that and also blamed himself for her frightened hysteria now. He had to find the two men who were doing this to him and his family. And he wasn't going to stop until he did so, even if his parents didn't know.  
  
And in Grabs' mind rose the cry that had echoed from his own father's lips and from the lips of hundreds of other boys everywhere. "I won't let no one keep me down! I's gonna protect what I love an' I's gonna do it wit' a little help if'n I hafta. But no low down scum ain't gonna hoit my family dis way! Not if I have anytin' ta say 'bout it!" Grabs sat unmoving, this thought of rebellion arising in his mind, while his parents patiently handled the rest of his siblings.   
  
Then Grabs and a few of his other siblings, namely Picks and Pockets, the rest of his siblings having to stay and help at the distribution office, went out to sell, but staying inside the boundaries their parents had indicated. Grabs quickly sold his papes before the afternoon was begun and then he began his plan. Quickly, he ran to an alley that he and his friends called the Craps Alley. There he found exactly what he was looking for. A few boys and girls sat in the dirt, shooting craps and playing cards. One of the larger boys who sported a head of blonde hair, looked up, and when he saw Grabs, he grinned and jumped up to meet him. "How's it goin' Grabs? Wanna join da games?" Grabs spit-shook with the boy and then shook his head.   
  
"Sorry Craps, I cain't. I came ta ask you guys a fava." A girl about the same size as Craps looked up, shaking the blonde hair out of her eyes and standing up to stand by the boys. "Name it Grabs. Mama an' Poppa won't let us go an' sell papes no more. Not till dis shootin' stuff settles down a bit. Dey don't want us out an' about, no matta what we said." The girl said with a sigh. "Yeah, I know what ya mean Joy. But it ain't yer fault ya know. Momma an' Poppa won't let us sell past da Manhattan lines, an' dat really stinks! I had a great sellin' spot, right at da corner of da Brooklyn Bridge. Da point is we gotta take dis on ourselves." The other five children stood up and joined the group. Grabs knew them all by sight.  
  
Cass, a small girl, eight years of age, with ruddy hair and a small face, was Skittery's daughter. Her two brothers Pete and Crawler were thirteen and fifteen, tough boys in their own right. Pete had a full head of brown wavy hair like his father, while Crawler had inherited his mother's black hair and green eyes. The other two children were not related. Curls was everything her name implied. She was thirteen years old, her hair curly but blonde, her gray-green eyes being a striking contrast, made her a known figure in the streets. Though she was Mush's daughter, there was very little of her father's black features that anyone could see. She resembled her mother, obviously. The other child, a boy named Art, or Arthur, was a well known figure. Though he was the son of Red who lived in Brooklyn, Art generally went where he pleased. He resembled his father to the fullest, his red hair and green eyes mirroring his father's. He was the oldest of the bunch being sixteen last month, but he was still willing to hang out with the littler kids and Grabs knew that he would be willing to help out.   
  
Craps and Joy were Kid Blink's kids, another reason why they were Grabs' best friends. He and the twins had been born in the same year, though he had been born a few days before the twins, making them a tight knit pair. Craps took another breath out of his cigarette and eyed Grabs. "So whaddya got in mind Grabs?" Grabs grinned and motioned the others closer. "Ya know how dere was all dat shootin'? An' how Jack Kelly got shot?" All the children nodded. "Well I know who done it! I found 'em and den followed 'em. Deys gonna do sometin' terrible to me family, I heaid 'em! An' maybe when dey're done, dey'll do sometin' to da rest of our famlies! We's gotta stand up an' take dis inta our own hands." Grabs said insistantly.   
  
He looked around at his friends. Each one looked thoughtful as they pondered the words. "How do ya know dat dese are da guys?" Art spoke out suddenly. "I know. Dey was talkin' 'bout how dey almost picked off Jack, but not quite. Den dey said dat dey was gonna hit me Pop wit' sometin' he wasn't ready for. I mean, who knows, dey could even attack yer Pop too Art! Or maybe dey'd get da guts ta try an' git Spot!" Art's face darkened. "Ain't no one gonna mess wit' my dad or Spot. Dey'll hafta git by me foist."   
  
Grabs grinned. "Dats da spirit! We's jest gotta do dis ourselves!" The other children joined in the enthusiasm and began making plans to protect their families. "Look we's gotta get dis out everywhere! To all da Newsies an' all da pals you know. Tell 'em dat if'n dey want a part of dis, dey come ta me." Grabs said enthusiastically. "Well Grabs, where should we have 'em meet ya? Why don't we jest have all da people we git meet at one specific time and a place?" Joy asked reasonably. Grabs grinned and patted her on the back. "I knew dere was a reason I asked ya ta do dis! Have 'em meet me an' you all here at eight o'clock next Sataday. Undastand? Afta dat, we'll spread out an' look fer dose no good louses!" The children yelled their affirmative and then sped off to complete their task. "I jest want ya ta know Grabs, dat I'm gonna be gittin' bigger boys dan you. Jest so ya know. Is dat alright?" Art asked the small boy. Grabs smiled and nodded. "Sure. We need all da help we kin get!" Art laughed and tousled the boy's hair affectionately then walked off towards Brooklyn to spread the news.  
  
From behind Grabs, there came a small cough. When he turned around, Grabs grinned at the sight before him. In front of him stood a boy and a girl of the same height, blonde hair falling into their faces, a pair of blue-gray eyes and a pair of blue-green eyes staring up at him eagerly. Grabs knew who they were. They were two years his junior and known everywhere. Francis and Fiona Conlon were Spot's children and his pride and joy. Of course they weren't known by those names. To the outside world they were known as Sketch and Jade. The reason for the choices were that Sketch had remarkable drawing skills for a child of five. He was always doodling everywhere on anything, no matter what. Spot's old room, now the twin's room, was papered with drawings that he had done.   
  
Jade was a different matter. After she was born and placed in her father's arms, the shock of the matter had overwhelmed Spot and had muddled his thinking. "Dang, she's got eyes like dat one stone. Jade, dats what its called." Racetrack, having come to Brooklyn to keep Spot from being too nervous during Blue's delivery, had laughed hysterically. "Her eyes ain't jade Spot! Dey're only a light blue-green!" Spot had blushed at his mistake, but had turned upon Racetrack quite suddenly. "Her eyes are jade, if I says dey are. An' I says dat dey are! She's got jade eyes, an' dats what I kin call her." Spot remarked as an afterthought, christening his child then and there.  
  
"We heaid yer speech Higgins. An' we wanna join ya." Sketch said energetically, the more natural leader and the most like Spot of the two children. "Yeah. We think dat its a good cause an' all. An' plus since our Papa's are friends, we kin trust ya Grabs. We wanna help." Jade interjected. Grabs put his fingers to his face thoughtfully.   
  
It would be good ta have some help from dem, since dey're wit' Brooklyn an' all. An' bein' Spot's kids would make more kids come, if dey knew dat Spot was in on it, sorta.   
  
"What kin ya do ta help me?" Grabs asked the twins. "We kin give ya support an' we kin convince people ta come to ya." Sketch said instantly. "We kin also round up lotsa people fer ya." Jade insisted. "Well, I dunno. Kin ya fight?" Grabs asked.  
  
Sketch put up his fists, while Jade rolled her eyes. "Of course we kin fight! We kin fight most anybody!" Sketch yelled. "But sometimes we do need a little help." Jade said sensibly. "All we kin promise ya is dat we'll fight an' help ya to da best of our abilities. Dats all we kin promise ya Grabs." Jade said, folding her arms across her chest. "Dats all I'm askin' fer. Okay Sketch, Jade. You kin join us." Grabs said proudly. Sketch began to jump up and down, Jade joining her hands with him. Then Sketch and Jade spit on their hands and stuck them out for Grabs. Grabs did the same and shook their hands, a wide grin on his face. "Danks Higgins! We appreciate it! Dis is gonna be fun!" Sketch yelled. "An' dangerous. But dats all part of da job. See ya Grabs!" Jade said, smiling sweetly as she pulled Sketch along with her. Grabs smiled and shook his head. "Well, we've got Brooklyn. An' dats one of da most important things ta have. Tank God." He muttered as he walked casually out of the alley.  
  
"Grabs! Grabs wait up! Where's ya goin'?" Joy called from behind him. He turned and smiled at her as she caught up. "I'se going ta tell some of da udda kids, an' maybe git some of Medda's helpas." Joy's face was a mask of confusion. "But why Grabs?" Grabs grinned widely and stuck his hands in his pockets. " 'Cause. Do ya 'memba yer dad tellin' ya 'bout da strike he an' da udda's had when dey was kids?" Joy nodded. "Well, dey had a big part of it at Medda's. If I kin convince Medda's guys who helped wit' da udda's rally, we'd be set!" Grabs said excitedly. "Yeah but, do we wanna attract dat much attention? I mean, ya don't know if dey'll spill or not." Grab's frowned. "I kin trust Toby. An' plus he kin knock out anybody who wants ta take him. He'll convince da uddas udawise. So it's all okay. "  
  
Joy sighed. "I guess so Grabs. I jest don't know what Mama an' Papa's gonna say dough." Grabs nodded in agreement. "I know. But ya cain't tell 'em at all! Okay? Neva. We gotta keep dis to ourselves, uddawise, dey'll try and make us stop doing it!" Grabs said firmly. Joy nodded. "I jest feel bad, lyin' ta Momma an' Poppa dat way." Grabs put his arm around her shoulder. "I know Joy. But it's fer da best. My Momma an' Papa did what dey taught was right didn't dey? We jest gotta follow in dey're footsteps. An' if dey protest, tell 'em dat dey set da example. We gotta protect our families." Grabs said. Joy nodded and smiled. "I'm goin' ta da Bronx an' I'm gonna spread da woid. Hope ya talk some sense inta Toby an' da uddas!" She yelled as she ran off. Grabs smiled and began to walk uneasily to Medda's.  
  
  



	5. A Stranger in Our Midst

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"Where ya been Grabs? We been waitin' fer ya." Bright Eyes asked as her son trudged through the door with a tired expression on his face. "Yeah, Picks an' Pockets came home hours ago. Where ya been kid?" Racetrack asked from the dinner table. Grabs shrugged. "Playin' wit' Joy an' Craps." He said innocently. It wasn't totally a lie. Craps and Joy had changed their minds and decided to go with him to convince the other boys and had helped him gain Toby's approval and trust. But still, an uneasy feeling entered into Grabs' mind. Racetrack nodded, but still looked over his son. There was something wrong with his son that he couldn't place. A certain gleam of the eye that flashed at him from the corners of it's brown gaze. His son had a secret. "You sua dere's nothin' goin' on?"   
  
Grabs shrugged and looked at his father. "I'm sure. Positive. Sold lotsa papes Momma!" Grabs said, approaching his mother and dumping the money on the counter. Bright Eyes smiled at him and ruffled his hair with one hand as she held Taps in the other. "Ya did good Grabs. Ya hungry?" She asked, scooping some food on a cracked plate. Grabs nodded. "Yup! Danks Momma." Grabs took the plate over to the table and began to eat hungrily. Racetrack watched his son eat his food. Then he turned away and his eyes caught Bright Eyes' stare. She motioned him to the other room and he stood reluctantly. "Whats da matta witcha? Why do ya keep starin' at Grabs thataway?" She asked. Racetrack shrugged. "I dunno Brighty. Its just dat, he looks like he's hidin' sometin'. Sometin' big dat is primarily 'bout us. I don't like it."  
  
Bright Eyes sighed. "I know. I could see it in his eyes dis mawnin'. But Race you know betta dan I do not ta tick 'im off by starin' at him constantly. He'll know dat we know sometin'." Racetrack ran his hands through his dark hair. "I know. But I cain't help it! He's my kid an' I worry 'bout 'im!" Bright Eyes nodded and placed her hand on his. "I know. He's my kid too rememba?" Racetrack's face softened. "I'm sorry Bright. I guess I'm jest worried 'bout Jack, an' Cowboy an' Fairy, all da kids actually. You. I jest, I dunno. It's been crazy 'round here." Bright Eyes laughed. "It sure has. But we gotta stop worryin'. Grabs knows da difference between right an' wrong. He does. I know it. Now your udda two sons on da udda hand." Bright Eyes said warningly.  
  
Racetrack laughed. "Don't even git me stawted on Picks an' Pockets." He said. "I will. Do ya know dat dey brought home a GOLD watch? A gold watch Race! Honestly if dey don't start straightenin' up, dey're gonna end up in da refuge! I am not gonna see my sons in a refuge! I've been dere! You've been dere! Almost every Newsies' been dere! I won't let my kids get put dere. It would kill me." She said solemnly. Racetrack put his arm around her. "I know Bright. We'll woik it out. Maybe a few days away from sellin' papes will change dey're minds 'bout picken' pockets." He said with a sly smile. Bright Eyes grinned. "Oh, dat'll break dey're little hearts. Yer so mean to dose poor babies." She said. Racetrack grinned. "I know. Let's have a little talk wit' dose boys of mine." He said as he and Bright Eyes walked out of the room.   
  
Bright Eyes' eyes went wide when she saw the table. Grabs was gone, his plate on the counter, scraped clean. "Fairy, where did Grabs go?" Racetrack asked the little girl, who was sitting at the table playing with a grubby doll. "He went to da boy's room Papa. Him an' all da boys is back dere." She said simply. "Racetrack turned to Bright Eyes. "I'm jest gonna check it out. Make sure dey're okay." Bright Eyes nodded as she got a firmer grip on the squirmy Taps. Racetrack walked down the hallway and halted outside the boy's room that Picks, Pockets, Grabs, and Cowboy shared. It was the largest room in the apartment, and it was only right that the boys should share it. But from the sounds coming out of the room, it was not only the boys, but the girls as well.   
  
Racetrack opened the door and looked inside. Gathered on Grabs' bed were Picks, Pockets, Cowboy, Angel, and Sunshine. They were listening to Grabs closely. Grabs was in the middle of the group speaking to them earnestly. "Whatcha guys doin'?" Racetrack asked. All of the children bolted upright. Grabs grinned. "I was jest tellin' da guys a joke I heaid on da street Poppa. Nothin' big." Racetrack eased himself into the doorway. "Really? Tell me it." Grabs' brown eyes widened but his grin remained. "Sure. What is with you all your life, but sometimes disappears?" Grabs asked. Racetrack put his hand on his chin and pretended to think, while he watched his children's faces. They were all watching him and Grabs with tense faces. "I give up. What?" Grabs smiled. "Yer hair!" The children laughed uneasily as Racetrack laughed. "Okay. I'll leave you guys alone now." Racetrack walked out of the door, though still not satisfied that nothing was up with his children.   
  
The children waited till they heard their father's footsteps disappear down the hall, then they turned back to Grabs. "Now Grabs, yer sua dat dese guys said dat dey was gonna kill Papa?" Picks asked with a skeptical eye. "I'm sua. Dey said dey was gonna hit Papa wit' sometin' he wasn't ready for. Well Papa ain't ready fer death is he?" The children shook their heads in thought. "So you stawted a rally type ting Grabs? What's Momma an' Poppa gonna think?" Angel asked.   
  
Grabs rolled his eyes. "Angel, we cain't let Momma an' Poppa know! If dey did it would spoil everytin'. Now, we gots ta protect our famlies an' find out who's behind dis mastamind da kill Jack an' our Poppa. If our parents find out, ya know what dey'd do? Make us stay home out of everytin'!" Grabs said, spitting the words out like metal. "I AIN'T gonna stay home while me famlily's in danga. So you guys wit' me?" There was silence for a while. "We're witcha all da way Grabs!" Picks and Pockets said rather loudly. The other children concurred with their brothers. "All right den. We jest gotta plan dis so dat Momma an' Poppa don't have a clue." Grabs said happily. "But Grabs, what 'bout Fairy?" Cowboy asked. Grabs stopped short. He had totally forgotten about her. She had refused to come with him so he could tell her, so he left her. "I'll tell her lata. She's still wacked out from da experience. I'll do da hona's." Grabs said confidently. "But fer now, we gots ta git ready fer da foist meetin'. I talked ta da uddas an' its all arranged. It's gonna be dangerous dough." Grabs said quietly.  
  
There was silence around the room. Then Picks spoke. "Well Grabs, I guess it's a risk we gots ta take ain't it? I mean, if we's gonna protect our famlies, we gotta do a little disobeyin' occasionally don't we?" Grabs grinned and slapped his arm around his brother. "Dat's it boy! Now, I'se got an important announcement. We's got Brooklyn!" There was a general uproar in the room as the children began to congratulate him and to giggle excitedly. "I cain't believe it! Dats great Grabs!" Angel said ecstatically. "I know. An' guess who gave us Brooklyn?" The children shook they're heads. "No one but da infamous Sketch an' Jade Conlon!" Grabs said triumphantly. The children looked at each other and grinned. "Dats great! I like Sketch. He's funny." Sunshine said shyly. "Well, we betta break dis meetin' up, uddawise Momma an' Papa's gonna git suspicious." The children nodded and the girls retreated from the room.   
  
"Do ya really tink dat dis is a good idea Grabs?" A quiet voice asked from the corner of the room. Cowboy was watching Grabs intently, his small forehead furrowed. "Sure Cowboy. It'll be okay. We've got Brooklyn don't we?" Grabs asked. "Yeah, but does Brooklyn have guns?" Grabs was taken aback. "What are ya tawkin' about Cowboy?" Cowboy shrugged and he twisted one of his curls on his small finger. "It's jest dat, I was dere when Jack got shot. I was da one who stawted it. Me an' my big mout'. Dose guys have got big guns Grabs, an' no meetin' or slinkin' 'round da guttas is gonna do much against dat. 'Cept it'll git some kids killed." Cowboy said solemnly. Grabs sat back on his bed and Picks and Pockets watched in silence.   
  
"I mean, I tink it's a good idea an' all Grabs. I jest don't know if we should do it. Dat's all." Grabs looked up at his little brother. "Look, we gots Brooklyn. An' Art said he was gonna be bringin' in bigga boys right? So we'll have 'dults dere! We'll be fine. Dey kin protect us." Grabs said confidently. "Yeah, but who's gonna protect you when ya go's up ta make yer speech huh?" Cowboy shot back. Grabs sat back once more. He hadn't thought of that. "It'll be fine. Jest drop it Cowboy an' go ta sleep. I don't wanna hear no more 'bout it." Grabs laid down on his bed and buried his tanned face into his pillow. Cowboy crawled into bed next to him, and turned the opposite way, his serious face staring out into the darkness.  
  
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Next Saturday.  
  
  
"Hey ya Grabs! Ya ready fer tenite?" Sketch Conlon called out. Grabs grinned at the boy, who strutted up to him importantly. "Yep. How 'bout you? Ya didn't tell yer folks did ya?" Sketch smiled and shook his head. "Neva. Papa mighta not let me come at all. It was rough gettin' alot of da boys from Brooklyn up hea widout lettin' Papa know. You owe me an' Art big Higgins." The boy said seriously. Grabs smiled at the boy's seriousness. "Sure. I'll pay ya back. Don't worry Conlon." Sketch said as he patted him on the back. "Say, did all yer bruddas an' sistas come?" Sketch asked. Grabs frowned, remembering the previous night's episode.   
  
He had finally convinced his parents to let he and his siblings to go out for a mere three hours, but no more. But one thing held up the project. Fairy. She refused to leave the house. She refused to listen to what Grabs said. Instead, she merely glared at him in silence. Then she had scoffed. "Yer gettin' yerself in far over yer head Grabs." Grabs had gazed at her in astonishment, not believing his ears. But his sister merely turned away and began to play with her doll, ignoring him.   
  
Grabs returned to the present and gazed into Sketch's gray eyes. "Fairy couldn't come." Sketch shrugged. "Dats too bad. Maybe next time huh?" Grabs nodded as Sketch began to walk away. "Maybe next time. Though I doubt it seriously." Grabs muttered under his breath. "Hey kid. Da uddas is ready. You gonna stawt dis ting off?" Art's booming voice asked. Grabs jumped and nodded. "Yeah, yeah I'll do dat." Grabs jumped up on a crate and stood straight and tall, overlooking the craps alley. It was crammed full with boys and girls alike. His siblings were in the front, as were the Conlon twins. Joy looked up at him and gave him a winning smile. Grabs grinned and whistled for attention.  
  
"Okay you guys! Quiet down! Quiet down! Ya'll know why we're hea so I won't go inta details, but one ting I will say, is dat we're gonna bring da guys who did dis down!" Grabs yelled. The group roared in appreciation, much to Grabs' delight. "Tenight da olda boys is gonna take us younga kids 'round Manhattan. Now I had my guys give ya a numba when ya came in. Did ya 'memba it?" The group murmured. "Okay, If yer ones, ya go find Art or somebody from Brooklyn. Brooklyn, you'll split up in small groups, a big boy fer each group. Got dat? Okay, two's, you'se goin' wit' da Bronx boys. Three's yer Queens. Fours," Grabs continued to call out the numbers so that the children knew where to go.   
  
By the time they were finished, it was eight thirty. "Okay, ya gotta keep it quiet. Ya see anytin', ya tell yer leada! Undastand? Lets go!" Grabs shouted, jumping off the crate. He ran over to his siblings and his friends. "So, who's takin' us Grabs?" Sunshine asked. "I is! Doncha worry Sunny! I kin protect ya!" Sketch said proudly, bringing a blush to Sunshine's cheeks. "No you ain't leadin'. Tanks anyway dough Sketch. Art's gonna take us." Grabs said, as the red headed boy approached them. "Okay, if yer gonna be wit' me, dere cain't be no kids afraid of da dawk. 'Cause where we're goin', it's sure gonna get dawk and doity. No whimperin' or nothin'. Dat'll scare everybody off. Ya undastand? Who's bailin' out?" Art asked. There was no reply. Art nodded. "Okay. Lets go." Art began to slink off quietly away from the now silent group, followed closely and quietly by Grabs, Picks, Pockets, Angel, Sunshine, Cowboy, Sketch, Jade, and Joy. The children slinked quietly around the sewers and dark spots in the alleyways, watching, listening. At ten thirty, the children had about lost hope, when Art suddenly stopped in his tracks.   
  
"What is it Art?" Grabs whispered. "Shet up. Lemme hear." He whispered harshly. Grabs squinted his eyes and gazed into the distance where Art was staring intently. There were two shadows. Men. They didn't sound too happy and as they talked their voices escalated, making it easier for the children to hear. "What do you mean you flubbed it?" One of them asked angrily. "I'm sorry Osca! I couldn't get to him! Honest. I tried, but his kids kept gettin' in the way!" The taller man whined. The shorter man, the one they assumed was Oscar stopped short. "Whaddya mean? His kids kept gettin' in the way?" The tall man sighed. "They kept hanging around him and stuff. I couldn't shoot him there." The tall man insisted. Oscar grabbed the man's shirt collar and pulled it down towards his face. "You such a baby dat you cain't kill a man in front of his own kids?" He snarled.  
  
The man struggled to get loose from Oscar's grasp. "I tried Oscar, but I couldn't do that. Plus you said don't kill anymore than I hafta. I didn't want to accidently hit one of the kids." The man pleaded. Oscar released his grasp. "Fine. Yer probably right. But in the meantime we gotta hit someone. Someone that would send a message to all those guys who abused us. An' we gotta kill dis time." Oscar said solemnly. The taller man nodded. "What if we picked of a leader?" Oscar asked, turning around suddenly. The taller man started. "A leader?" Oscar nodded vigorously. "If we could pick off one of the leaders of the districts, that would send a pretty clear messege. An' den, we kin hit Manhattan." The children saw the taller man grin in the moonlight. "Dat's a good idea Oscar. But who we gonna hit?" Oscar began to walk away, much to the children's dismay. "I gotta tink about that. C'mon." The taller man began to follow them. "No! Geez, we was so close!" Art hissed. "Well at least we know one of em's names." Grabs said encouragingly. "Yeah. Do ya know how many guy's names is Osca? It'll be like findin' a needle in a haystack." Art groaned.  
  
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	6. A Second Shot

  
*Note from the Author* Sorry for the long delay guys! I very stupidly began like four stories at once! *blushes* Forgive me! I'm working as hard as I can! Thanx!  
  
  
  
The Higgins children crept silently into their own home at 11:15, exhausted and somewhat satisfied with the night's events. Grabs especially was glad with what they had discovered. From what he could deduce from the events, there had already been an attempted shooting of his father, but because of them. At this thought, Grabs grimaced, thinking of the close call that his father had had. He had also figured that the two crooks intended to kill off one of the leaders of the districts of New York. "Dat narrows it down." Grabs muttered as he lay with his head on his hand beside his snoring brother Cowboy. There was only one way in his mind to prevent another murder. That was to send his boys and girls out to warn all the Newsie leaders of the districts. That would take a long time, perhaps a whole work day, but they would have to risk it. Unless. Unless the killers intended to strike early, before the children could get up. Grabs' tired brown eyes widened.  
  
They could have done the murder already! Killed off another innocent. "I hafta go an' warn 'em." Grabs muttered, throwing the sheets off of his sweaty legs. But before he got up, he collapsed again. "I cain't. Dey won't try it yet, not yet. Maybe temorra evenin', but not yet, not now." The last word was muttered as Grabs' brown eyes closed in a peaceful sleep. The darkened room was now silent, save for the sounds of the snores of the four boys.   
  
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Grabs got up earlier than usual the next morning and had forced his siblings to do the same. Grabs had grinned at his father's surprised face as he whipped through his breakfast and headed over to the distribution office before his father even got there. He had actually snuck out that morning and had found Craps. He told him to tell the others to meet him at the office early that morning, so that they could talk. He smiled with pleasure as he walked into the distribution office. Everyone was there. They were all talking and joking, but stopped when Grabs and his siblings, save Fairy, came.   
  
"I know dat ya's don't know why I asked ya's ta meet me hea. But it's important. I know ya know what we told ya 'bout da two men we follaed last night." There was a murmur of affirmation. "So I gots a plan. Dey's gonna pick off one of da leadas of da districts. So we gots ta warn 'em! We's all gonna buy papes, undastand? But not many so dat we kin split! All of us is gonna hafta split up an' warn all of 'em! Ya undastand?" Grabs yelled. "But Grabs, dat'll take fereva!" Skittery's son Pete yelled. "Yeah! Might take longa dan a day." His brother Crawler concurred. "Papa'll wonda if we don't come back on time." Crawler's sister Cass said in a small voice.   
  
"I know! But we gots ta try! Tink of it! Dey could be moiderin' someone right now! Jest ta prove dey're point dat dey're gonna take me Papa out! Ya undastand? Jack Kelly was jest da tip o'da iceburg so ta speak! Dey already said dat dey tried ta take out me fadda! An' I tink dat dem an' dey're cronies'll keep tryin' till dey do! So we gotta take some chances hea!" There was silence around the distribution office as the children looked at each other. "So who's wit' me?" Grabs yelled hopefully. There was silence for a moment more before a yell broke the silence. "We're witcha Grabs! All da way!" Craps yelled loudly. "Yeah! C'mon you guys!" Joy yelled. There was a general uproar of affirmations all round.   
  
But they quickly broke off as they saw the short figure of Grabs father, Racetrack Higgins. He looked up at them in surprise, then he looked to his children. "Whatcha doin' hea so eaily?" He asked. "Nothin' Papa. Jest wanted ta get hea eaily so dat da bigga boys wouldn't push us around." Grabs said confidently. "We will anyway Grabs!" Fish said, arriving right after Racetrack and jokingly pushing into Grabs. Racetrack laughed and took his place inside the distribution office. Grabs was the first in line and he slapped his money down on the counter. "Jest twenty teday Papa." Racetrack nodded and counted out twenty papers and handed them to his son. "Grabs." Grabs stopped walking away and looked back at his father. His father's brown eyes were concerned and a somewhat worried expression was on his face. "Grabs, you sure dere's nothin' goin' on?" Grabs nodded. "Yeah, jest stay close inside da office teday alright Papa. Gotta go! Bye!" Grabs said quickly before his father could reply. Racetrack watched him and absentmindedly waved goodbye.  
  
It didn't take long for Grabs and the others to sell their papers so they all met at the Greeley statue. When Grabs arrived, Craps was sitting on the ground with a bunch of the other kids playing craps. "Ha! I win again!" Craps yelled triumphantly. "Craps you play like crap!" Crawler muttered. "Why dank ya!" Craps said with a smile. "Hey Higgins. We're ready ta spread out." Craps said, standing as he noticed Grabs approach. "Well dats good. You all know where yer gonna head out?" Craps nodded. "We decided before ya came. Yer da last one." He said. "Is it okay if you take Queens?" Joy asked with friendly concern. "Dats fine. Jest fine. I don't mind. Jest so long as da udda districts is covaed." Grabs said, nodding. "Yeah everytin's covaed Higgins, so we should be done soon if we hurry." Craps said. Grabs nodded. "Alright, everyone meet back hea when yer done. Okay?" The group yelled an affirmative and the Newsies spread out, heading to their decided districts.  
  
Grabs had only been to Queens once or twice. He fortunately knew who the leader was. He was a tough boy named Archer who had been the leader since he had been about fourteen. His followers respected him and trusted his judgements and never disputed his authority. In fact, Spot's wife Blue, Kid Blink's younger sister, had in fact lived in Queens. "Heh, before she got trown out." Grabs muttered with a chuckle. Blue had beat up a boy very badly after the boy had picked on her to the point of fighting. Archer wouldn't take it anymore and had sent her packing back to Manhattan to her brother. Grabs sighed. He just hoped that he could convince Archer that something could happen to him.   
  
He reached the Queens boundaries and successfully passed the other Newsies watching out for boys who couldn't be in their territory. Grabs breathed a sigh of relief as he was lead by another Newsie to Archer. Archer was seated on the curb of a nearby street, his broad back up against the wall of a tall abandoned building. His eyes were closed in the morning sun and they didn't open as Grabs and the other Newsie approached. "What's da matta Quint?" He asked to Grabs surprise. Quint didn't react, but merely answered him. "Dis kid says he's from Manhattan. Says he wants ta see ya Archer. Says he's Racetrack an' Bright Eyes' kid. Name's Grabs." Archer slowly opened his eyes and Grabs gulped as the deep blue eyes scanned him. "I see da resemblance. Ya kin go Quint. I wanna tawk ta him alone." Quint nodded and left them.   
  
Archer looked Grabs over again and stood up with a sigh, taking a few steps closer to Grabs. "So yer Racetrack's kid huh? I could kinda tell. You probably like ta gamble too?" Archer asked. Grabs nodded vigorously. "Yes sir! Yeah, I love ta gamble!" Archer nodded knowingly. "Yer fadda swindled me outta five bucks cash one night dat I'd been savin'. One night dat he actually got lucky. So whadya want?" Archer asked, lighting a cigarette. "Well ya see Mista Archer sir," Grabs started. "No mista's. Jest Archer. I ain't no different dan you kid." Archer butted in. "Okay, Archer. I'm guessin' dat ya heard how Jack Kelly got shot." Archer nodded. "Yup. Heaid he ain't doin' too good too." Archer said knowingly. Grabs bit his lip. He hadn't heard that bit of news and it worried him, but he continued.  
  
"Well, me an' a bucha udda kids followed da guys dat did it. Twice actually. Once by meself and da udda time wit da uddas. One of 'ems name is Osca. An' anyway, we heaid 'em tawkin' how dey already tried ta kill me Papa." Archer's eyes widened and he gazed intently at Grabs as he blew smoke into the air. "An' den dey said dat dey was gonna prove to da Newsies dat dey wasn't playin' around ya know? An' dat dey was gonna send a message ta all da boys dat abused 'em. Dey was gonna kill one of da leadas of da districts!" Archer threw down his cigarette and he looked off in the distance, a thoughtful look on his face. "An' so me an' me pals are goin' ta all da districts ta warn da leadas ta watch dey're backs! We don't want no one ta git killed ya undastand." Grabs finished in a quick breath.  
  
Archer nodded. "Well I see yer point. I'll be sure ta tell da boys. I'll tawk ta yer Papa lata an'," Archer started. "NO!" Grabs butted in. "Don't tell Papa. He cain't know. He don't know 'bout it." Grabs said, his words falling to the ground. Archer gazed knowingly at Grabs. "Well okay. I'll keep yer secret ya little rascal. Don't worry 'bout it." Grabs lifted his head and smiled. "Now git outta hea before ya git in more trouble." Grabs smiled and nodded. "Danks Archer." Archer nodded as Grabs began to walk away. Grabs turned but stopped in his tracks as he heard a curious sound. Two curious sounds. "Grabs." Grabs heart froze at the voice that spoke his name. It was hollow and wispy, frightening. Grabs slowly turned around and his face blanched.   
  
Archer was no longer standing tall and proud. He was on his knees, his hands fallen at his sides. In his shirt was a bloody hole and blood was pouring out of it. Archer's blue eyes began to fade as he looked at Grabs. Grabs took a step backwards, then ran to him. Archer held up his hand to stop him, then weakly pointed upwards. His blue eyes became dead and lifeless and the Queens leader fell to the ground. Grabs' breath began to come in short wisps, he couldn't breath. He had just been talking to him, just a minute ago he had been alive and well as he could be. Now he was lying dead at his feet. Grabs looked up where the long finger had pointed, but he didn't see anything. He took a few steps backward from the body then heard the sound again and a ripping pain in his side.   
  
He fell to the ground in surprise and as he did so he looked up again. On top of the building was the outline of a man, and a gun. It slunk back into the shadows. Grabs groaned and lifted his hand from his side. It wasn't as bad as it felt. The bullet had only grazed the skin, but it still hurt. He gasped as he tried to stand. He failed then tried again. He then ran as fast as he could, screaming at the top of his lungs. "QUINT! SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! ARCHER GOT SHOT!" Quint caught Grabs as he began to fall and his green eyes widened at the blood oozing from his side. "Ya gotta go back! Yer hoit! I'll tend ta Archer. It'll be okay! Jinx! Ya take care of Higgins' side undastand! Terry, Arrow, ya come wit' me." Quint said as he passed Grabs to the capable hands of the black boy he'd called Jinx. Jinx picked him up carefully in his strong hands and began to walk off. "Be careful! Dere's a guy ova dere wit' a gun!" Grabs yelled to the departing boys before a wave of pain, drove him into unconciousness.  
  
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	7. Hidden in the Dark of Night

  
Grabs walked stiffly home, trying to hide his wound. The Queens Newsies had been understanding enough not to alert his parents, but instead had given him a new shirt and had tightly bandaged his side with a sigh. Even now, he still couldn't believe that Archer was dead. He had been there one moment, and was gone the next. And with his dying breath, Archer had tried to protect him. Grabs winced as he stumbled over a stone. His hand instinctively flew to his side. He halted for a few moments, resting against a building so that he could catch his breath. He could see the others waiting for him at the Greeley statue. He had to make it, he couldn't let on that he was hurt.  
  
He took a deep breath and walked stiffly over to the statue. "Heya Grabs! We got all our districts!" Joy said cheerfully. "Yeah! Even BROOKLYN! Although we had ta make Spot swear dat he wouldn't let on an' tell our folks." Craps added. "Yeah! My Papa undastands what it's like ta be runnin' from danga!" Sketch piped up. "Whatsa matta Grabs? Yer all pale." Cowboy asked, approaching his brother. "It ain't nothin'. My, my side hoits. Listen all of ya's. Sometin' bad's happened." As Grabs spoke, there was silence around the square. "Archer, da leada of Queens, is dead." The silence was broken by anguished cries. "Keep it down! He was shot, by one of da guys I tink. Anyway, he shot me too." Grabs continued, talking over the yells of disbelief. "Oh Grabs! Are ya alright?" Angel asked as she and Sunshine dove to his side protectively.  
  
"I'm fine. He jest knicked me. But we cain't let nobody know. Sure dey'll find out about Archer, but don't let on dat ya know. Undastand?" The others nodded. "Okay, lets head home." The groups headed home in silence, Grabs' siblings casting him worried looks as they went. When they reached the house, Bright Eyes' sharp eyes gazed over them. "Are you kids okay?" The children stopped in the door and Fairy looked up at them expectantly. "Yeah. Why Mama?" Grabs said, ignoring the pain in his side. "It's jest dat dere's been some tawk 'bout somebody gettin' shot." Grabs drew his breath in sharply. "Where?" Bright Eyes shrugged. "Not sure. You'll probably read 'bout it in da papes temorra. Go git washed up. Me an' ya fadda's gotta leave now if we're gonna git to da races on time. An' you kin eat whats on da stove 'kay?" Bright Eyes said, running her fingers through her son's hair affectionately. Grabs nodded and walked off. Bright Eyes watched him as she gave Angel and Sunshine a hug, while balancing little Taps on her hip.  
  
When Grabs got to his room, he made sure that his brothers and sisters weren't nearby and then slipped off his shirt and inspected the bandage. He touched it gently. It was still tender to the touch, but hopefully it was healing. "I cain't be bummed up like dis. I need ta keep fightin' fer Jack an' now Archer." Grabs muttered. "Grabs!" Grabs whirled around to face Fairy, who was standing in the doorway. "Fairy! Doncha know how ta knock?!" Grabs said angrily, holding his shirt over his bare chest.   
  
Fairy shut the door and walked over to him, her small hand pushing down the shirt that covered his chest. "I seen yer chest befoa Grabs Higgins! What did ya do?" Grabs winced and slapped the girl's hand away as she gently touched his side. "Dangit Fairy! Dat hoits!" Fairy looked up at him in confusion. "What did you do Grabs Higgins? Did you go an' git yerself hoit?" She asked accusingly. "Oh keep quiet! It ain't nothin'." Grabs said. "You know sometin' 'bout dat moida doncha Grabs?" Fairy asked quietly. Grabs ceased trying to put his shirt on and sighed, sitting down on his bed. "Yeah. I was dere." Fairy's blue eyes widened and she sat down beside her brother.   
  
"Da udda night, ya know how we followed dose two guys again? Well dey said dat dey was gonna pick off one of da leadas of da districts. So we all went an' told da leadas. I went ta Queens ta see da leada dere. His name was Archer. Well, I jest got finished warnin' him, when he got shot, right in front of my very eyes. He was dead. Den I got shot by da same guy. He jest grazed me, it ain't bad." He said quickly, seeing his sister's eyes widen. "Sure it ain't. Ain't ya done enough lyin' Grabs? Lemme see." Fairy insisted, her small hand reaching out to the bandage. "No Fairy!" Grabs yelled. He looked around then looked at Fairy. "It hoits like a buncha mosquitos is bitin' me on da inside Fairy, an' da guys at Queens said dat it's gotta be changed. I don't know nothin' 'bout changin' bandages!" Grabs whispered.  
  
Fairy sighed. "I does." Grabs scoffed. "Yeah right! How'd ya leain? Patchin' up yer dolly?" Grabs said in cruel sarcasm. Fairy rolled her eyes and smacked her brother on the back. "You idiot! Of course not! Mama taught me, jest in case anybody got hoit." Fairy explained, her small hands deftly unwinding the bandage. "Yeah sure. An' who taught Mama?" Grabs asked. "Don't know. But she's da one who bandaged up Fish when he was little so don't ya go an' say dat Mama's a lya." Fairy said wisely. "Ya call dis a scratch!" Fairy said angrily as the final bandage was unwound. Grabs shrugged. "Dats what da boys said. I couldn't look at it meself. Yeck." Grabs said as he shuddered. Fairy groaned and her small fingers probed the wound that was at least a few inches deep. "It ain't infected. Mama taught me dat too. If it's all white an' goopy, it's infected." Grabs shuddered again.   
  
"I pray ta God dat it don't git 'fected." He said reverently. "Me too. Now, I'll be right back. I'm gonna git anotha bandage." Fairy said softly, walking out of the room and making sure the door was securely closed. She tiptoed into the kitchen and rustled through the cupboards. When she finally found the bandage she was looking for, she began to exit the room, but a sound caught her ear. She cocked her head and edged towards the nearby window. She began to feel nervous. Racetrack was gone, having gone to the tracks and Bright Eyes had accompanied him. They had promised not to be out too late, trusting that Grabs could take care of his siblings, not knowing his current condition. She peered out the window into the impending night. She didn't hear anything else so she left the window and began to walk uneasily back to her brother's room.   
  
But she stopped again when the floorboards of the house began to creak. She knew it was not her own footsteps that had caused the sound. She trembled and her hands began to shake uncontrollably. "Mama? Papa? Dat you?" She whispered trying to see into the darkness. A firm hand clamped down on her mouth and rough breathing tousled her mussed up curls. "Don't make a sound an' ya won't git hurt kid." The feeling that had plagued her the day Spot Conlon had unexpectadly lifted her up in his arms that dark frightening night, threatened to take over her and make her faint once more.   
  
But she took as deep a breath as she could and regained control of her body. She nodded faintly and the man scooped her up in his arms, his hand still on her mouth and began to walk towards the door. Fairy tried to keep control of her brain as she was carried. Stay awake, don't faint! Please Fairy, it won't do ya no good. Please God let somebody hear me. She thought inwardly as the feeling began to take over again. But this time, the added terror or being kidnapped put her over the edge, and like that previous night she fainted.  
  
Grabs sat still in his room, fiddling with the bedcovers waiting for Fairy to get back. It seemed to him like it had been a long time so he stood up and wincing, made his way to the hallway. He peeked in the doorways of his siblings' room. They were all occupied, playing with each other. Grabs limped down the darkening hallway, watching the light in the windows get dimmer and dimmer. A lone lamp was on the table and he walked over to it. He lifted it up and looked in the corners of the room. "Fairy? Fairy, where are ya? Look come out, dis ain't funny. I don't want my side ta git 'fected." Grabs whispered as he looked around the adjoining rooms. Then the open front door caught his eye. He peered out it, then noticed muddy footprints on the floor. He traced to where they stopped. They stopped at the table then turned back towards the door. Grabs frowned as he noticed an object on the table. It was a small piece of paper that had dark almost unreadable writing on it. It said only a few words, but it said volumes to Grabs.  
  
G. H. : Tomoro, Broncks 1 o clok  
  
Grabs crumpled the piece of paper in his fist in anger. He couldn't believe this. Now the killers of Archer had stolen his sister and wanted him to go retrieve her. "Probably 'fore dey kill her." He muttered. "Is dere nothin' dat dey won't do?" He whispered as he unfolded the crumpled piece of paper and looked at it again. His sister was gone, and again it was his fault. He had to go and interfere and now his family was paying the price. "What'll Mama an' Papa say?" He whispered. Suddenly, the door creaked open and the sound of a baby's gurgling came to Grabs ears. "Hey kid! Whatcha doin'?" Racetrack asked cheerily, mussing his son's hair. Grabs gulped and attempted to smile. "Hey Papa." Bright Eyes groaned and moved Taps to her other hip. "Yer gettin' too heavy kid." She admonished him. Taps grinned and clapped his hands together. "Mama gettin' tired of horsies?" Taps asked. Bright Eyes smiled and nodded. "Mama's tired an' so is Taps. Time fer bed!" She said as she whisked him back to the bedrooms before he could protest.   
  
Racetrack and Grabs were left alone. "So didja win anythin?" Grabs asked, trying to fill the awkward silence that hung between them. "Yeah actually. Won on Dreamcatcha." Racetrack said. "Told ya he would win." Grabs said automatically. Racetrack grinned. "Yeah ya did didn't ya?" Racetrack said with a smile. Then came the awkward silence again. Grabs sighed. He knew he had to tell his father what had happened, but he really didn't want to. "Papa, sometin' bad's happened." Racetrack's brown eyes filled with concern. "What is it Grabs?" Grabs hung his head, searching for a substituted of the words he wanted to say, but couldn't. "Fairy's gone. Da front door was open, an' I, I tink she got taken away."   
  
There was silence as Racetrack comprehended what his son was saying. Then he swore fiercly under his breath. Grabs' eyes widened in shock. Never in his short life had he ever heard his father swear before. Never. And here he was doing it now. Racetrack looked over at his son's wide eyes and surprised face and regretted his action. "Grabs, do ya know anytin' else dat kin help. I mean, if Fairy is kidnapped, we gotta do everytin' we can ta help." Grabs' mind went over the facts quickly. He should tell his father about the note, but then he wouldn't let him go alone, which was what he wanted to do. It was his fault therefore he should deal with the consequences. He had to be a man. "I don't know nothin' else Papa." He blurted out.   
  
Racetrack's brown eyes bore into Grabs', so like his own eyes and tried to look within their depths to find what his son was hiding. But he found nothing. He sighed. "Race, Fairy's gone an' da kids ain't seen her for a while now." Bright Eyes' worried voice spoke out, breaking into the two's thoughts. "I know Bright. I tink we need ta call Brooklyn." Bright Eyes gasped at her husband's words as she gazed at him. "Ya don't tink she got, got, kidnapped or sometin'!?" Racetrack nodded, his eyes never leaving his son. "Oh God." Bright Eyes sank into a nearby chair, her head in her hands. Racetrack stared at Grabs, and Grabs stared back, until it was impossible to look at his father anymore without feeling shame.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Search & Rescue

Spot arrived not long after Racetrack's words of summoning him. He had come with Sketch and Jade to visit, not knowing the tragedy that had befallen them. "Hey! Anybody gots some room fer Brooklyn?" He asked, peeking around the door. Bright Eyes stood up suddenly at his voice and Spot's merry face sobered as he saw her seriousness and utter helplessness. "Whassa matta Bright?" He asked softly. Racetrack stood up and walked up to Spot, giving him the spit-shake half-heartedly. "We's got trouble Spot." Racetrack said quietly. "Somebody's stole Fairy." Bright Eyes broke out in an anguished cry. Spot's eyes flashed fire as they gazed upon his childhood friends. "Who done it? I'll kill 'em." He whispered harshly.   
  
Bright Eyes shook her head. "We don't know who did it Spot, dats da trouble. One minute she was here, da next she wasn't." Spot looked at her, then glanced behind him at his children. "Kids, you stay here wit' Grabs fer a minute. I gots ta tawk ta Race an' Bright." He said, taking the arms of the Higgins and taking them just outside the door. Sketch watched them go, then turned to Grabs. "I'll kill whoeva took Fairy! An' if dey hoit her, I'll make sure its as slow an' painful as kin be!" He said angrily, his eyes flashing. Grabs nodded and ducked his head. "Whassa matta? You wouldn't fight fer yer own sista? What kinda skunk are ya?" Sketch almost bellowed. "I ain't a skunk Conlon. Da guys who killed Archer have Fairy." He blurted out.  
  
Sketch stared at him in amazed astonishment. "How do ya know dat?" He asked. "I jest do. Look at dis note. It hasta be dem. Dey want me, dats all." Grabs said, showing the slip of paper to the twins. They both looked at it then handed it back to Grabs. "So are ya gonna meet 'em?" Jade asked. Grabs dropped his head. "I dunno. I hafta, but I don't wanna. Ya know?" The twins nodded and looked at each other. "We hafta make a plan Higgins. We cain't jest let ya go in dere alone." Sketch insisted. "I hafta do it alone. It's all my fault." Grabs said misreably. "Now see here Higgins! We ain't gonna let ya do dat. Not when we've got a good chance of bustin' da rats who done dis. Now da three of us an' da rest of our friends is gonna team tegedda ta make a plan ta stop dese guys! Ya undastand?" Sketch said angrily. Grabs looked at him, then smiled. "Okay Conlon. Okay. We'll do it. Tell me yer ideas." The twins and Grabs sat down on the wall and began to whisper quietly, in case their parents should hear them.  
  
Outside, Spot stood in the dark night with Racetrack and Bright Eyes. "Sure ya kin have Brooklyn. I don't care. I wanna find Fairy as much as you, but maybe we should ease off a little." Spot said casually. "Ease off! What da heck do ya mean? We's gots ta find my baby now!" Bright Eyes broke in. "Now cool it Bright. Dis ain't gonna help Fairy none. Now we don't wanna rush inta it because it'll be bad fer her. We might stumble on da kidnappas accidentally an' make 'em kill her. I don't wanna do dat." Bright Eyes shuddered and pressed herself against a still and silent Racetrack. "So whadday tink we should do Spot?" Racetrack asked quietly. "I dunno Higgins. It's rough. I mean, we don't even have any leads as ta who it is. But I mean, do ya tink dat it could be connected wit' Cowboy, den dat kid from Queens?" Spot asked, his brow furrowed.  
  
"What if it does? Who is it dat has sometin' against us?" Bright Eyes asked. Spot shook his head. "I dunno. God, I wish dat Cowboy would snap outta it an' wake up. Da doctas don't know what dey're gonna do. Apparently, dere was two shots fired. One hit 'im in da shoulda, da udda skimmed his head. Cowboy didn't even know he'd been hit." Spot said, lighting a cigarette. "So, we hafta figure it out da hard way." Racetrack said. "Yup. Dat ain't da best way I know. But it's da only way till Jack snaps outta it." Spot said while he nodded. "Well, if dats da only way, ya kin count on Manhattan's help Spot." Bright Eyes said firmly. "I knew I could. We'll keep an eye an' ear open. But don't do anytin' widout consultin' me foist. We wanna keep Fairy alive rememba." Spot said firmly. Bright Eyes and Racetrack nodded. "But what if she ain't when we find her?" Racetrack asked quietly. "Den we look fer a guy ta kill instead of hoit." Spot said solemnly.  
  
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Jack tossed and turned in his dreams, shapes and colors flying before his eyes. Times too it seemed. He relieved his painful childhood over and over again, then the strike, then his life up till now. Then it would start all over again. It was like it had been recorded and the player was broken. He tried to break through the fuzzy barrier that held him in this place, but he couldn't. He was too weak. But he did see people clearly. He tried to yell to them, tried to get their attention, but it was no use. They couldn't hear or see him. He pleaded with Spot to save him, begged Racetrack to turn away from the racehorses and pull him out of this hell-hole of pain, but all in vain. He saw little Cowboy's anguished face and the hard face of a killer, Oscar Delancy.   
He knew that if he died Oscar would be responsible, but if only he could break out of his prison and tell the world. But it seemed impossible. All escape routes were blocked out from him and he was trapped. He finally stopped struggling and instead focused on saving his energy so that when the time came, he could break free.   
  
When I git outta here, I'm gonna tell Race dat it was Osca. Den da bulls kin take care of him an' everytin' ll be alright. I want outta here! Somebody lemme out!   
  
His brain cried out over an over as the story of his life started over and began to replay, regardless of his anguish.  
  
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The next day Grabs was almost not let out on the street to sell his papers. It was only on the insistance of his father that he was allowed. He had let him go, but had placed his hand on Grabs shoulder. "You kin tell me anytin' Grabs. Ya know dat?" He had said softly. Grabs had nodded and had taken off, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn't buy very many papers, only twenty to the surprise of Fish, who had temporarily taken over the distribution office for Racetrack. He had half-heartedly called out the headlines and had sold the papers. He was so down-hearted and downright scared. He had refused help from all his friends and insisted on going to the Bronx alone. He didn't want them to get hurt and he told them all off. The Conlon twins had stared at him in disbelief but had followed their father out the door when he called them, surprise still evident in their eyes.  
  
At twelve o'clock, Grabs swallowed hard and began to walk slowly to the Bronx. He didn't know what he was going to do when he got there. He didn't have a weapon, save for his slingshot, but even that he wasn't very good at using and wouldn't be much protection. He felt misreable. He had kissed and hugged his siblings and parents extra close that morning, knowing in his heart that he would most likely never see them again. He had tried to help them for as long as he could and now he would give up his life for his sister's. He finally reached the Bronx and stood uneasily at the border. A sight in the shadows caught his eye, a single finger waved him into the alley. Grabs took a deep breath and began to follow, but when he reached the dark alley there was no one there.   
  
He walked tentatively down the dirty alley. It was dark, colored only by a few splashes of insistant sunshine shining through the cracks. He stopped near the end, unsure of himself. Then his heart jumped to his mouth as the finger again stretched around the edge of the alley and beckoned him. He groaned silently and ran around the edge, hoping to catch the person. But he was gone. Whoever it was didn't want him to see him. So he walked down the alley. When he reached the end, the beckoning finger did not come around the corner. He walked tentatively ahead then stopped, peeking around the corner. He gasped as a cold hand slithered around his neck and an equally cold hand placed itself upon his parted lips. "Don't make a sound or the Mouse will send you to the cats." The young frosty voice whispered. Grabs didn't make a sound, but a breath of air came through his parted lips as he sank into the person's arms into a dead faint.  
  
  



	9. Cat & Mouse

  
*Author's Note* This chapter is dedicated to Kora, whose keen eyes caught the disappearence of our very own comatose Jack Kelly. *grins sheepishly* I must admit that the occurance of all the events striking the Higgins family like plague made us all, (yeah me too) forget slightly about our dear Cowboy. Kora, I'll try my best to get the story finished by Saturday. I can't promise you anything, but I will certainly try. Thanx for your great reviewing Kora!  
  
  
  
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Racetrack walked into the hospital room filled with numerous sick people, and his nervous brown eyes sought out one familiar face. He couldn't find it. He walked up and down the aisles of beds before he finally found who he was looking for. Cowboy. He hadn't visited Jack since his last visit, a few days after the shooting. He pulled up a chair and sat down in it beside the bed. His brown eyes observed the body lying before him. It was Jack alright, but half of his head was swarthed in bandages and his shoulder was also bandaged. His face was pale, his black eyelashes standing out against the whiteness. His shallow breathing barely moved the thin sheets.  
  
"Well Cowboy. I'm sorry dat I ain't been ta see ya lately. Tings have been rough. You undastand. But its woise dan woik troubles. It's gotten peisonal. Cowboy, I feel like I don't even know me own kid. Grabs. He's been so distant an' I don't know why. It, it bugs me Cowboy an' I cain't stand it! I mean, he's always eidda told me or his mudda tings, but now he won't tawk at all. I feel like I'm losin' him Jack." Racetrack poured out. "An' den, dere's Fairy. Afta you was shot, she an' Grabs wandered off an' she got frightened outta her wits by sometin'. She won't even say what. She barely speaks. An now, well, she's been kidnapped. What have I done ta bring dis upon my family Cowboy? What have I done? I'm losin' me family Cowboy. Do ya know what dats like?" Racetrack asked, his voiced strained with emotion as he stared at the blank face.  
  
"Oh Cowboy if only you'd wake up. So many tings have happened. Dat stuff wit' Grabs an' Fairy, an' all da kids, all da udda's kids is actin' strange, an' somehow I tink dat Grabs is behind it. Well, Spot told me dat a group of 'em went and told him ta watch his back 'cause dere was a chance of anudda shootin'. Ya know what happened Cowboy? Archer, dat leada from Queens, got picked off dat aftanoon. An' Grabs knows sometin' about dat dat he ain't tellin'. Aw Jack, why am I doin' dis? I mean, you ain't awake. But maybe dere's some part of ya dat can hear me. Maybe. Please come back Cowboy. We all need ya. I gotta run. I promised Bright dat I'd be back before two an' it's twenty till now. Ya know how she is Cowboy. Well, hurry home soon." Racetrack said softly, as he stood from his chair and silently shuffled out of the room.  
  
Inwardly, Jack thrashed at the sound of Racetrack's voice. He could hear him, but he couldn't get that through to Racetrack. He heard it all. Fairy's been kidnapped? Good Lawd. Archer's dead. What is happenin'? Oh Race, I wish I could tell ya dat it's gotta be Osca Delancy. I wish I could wake up and git outta here! Ya gotta help me Race! I cain't do dis alone. But I'll try. I'll try an' fight so I kin git outta here an' tell ya what's goin' on. If only. If only.   
  
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Grabs awoke with a sour taste in his mouth and the aching in his side. He sat up and blinked in the dim light. He wasn't in the alley anymore, but in a small room. It was barely furnished, holding only a table and two chairs, one of which he was sitting in. The room was lit by a lantern sitting on the wooden table. He looked around and tried to stand up on wobbly legs. "Ya don't need ta stand. We'll be witcha in a minute." Grabs plopped down in his seat, not from obediance, but from fright as a voice echoed out of the corners of the room. "Who are ya?" Grabs croaked. A tall figure emerged from a dark corner of the room and sat down at the desk. "Me friends call me Mouse. Yer Grabs Higgins." The person replied. Grabs recognized the icy voice he had heard in the alley, but he couldn't believe who he saw. The boy was about seventeen it seemed to him. He was tall and thin. His brown stringy hair fell about his face and often into his green eyes which stood out from his pale face.   
  
"Whaddya got wit' me?" Grabs asked uneasily. Mouse smiled. "It's really not me. I'm jest a representative of me boss. I'm standin' in his place speakin' da woids dat he'd say. We ain't stupid enough ta jest let him tawk ta ya." The boy said, still smiling. "Why's dat?" Grabs stuttered. " 'Cause you'd rememba him. I must say fer a little kid ya got brains." Mouse remarked, and to Grabs surprise, the words were filled with respect. "Well I jest obseive. Me fadda taught me dat much." Grabs stuttered. Mouse nodded but didn't speak. He just eyed him. "Ya know why yer here?" Mouse asked quietly. Grabs shook his head with a gulp and instead stared at the boy's intense green eyes.   
  
"Yer here 'cause me boss tinks ya know more dan ya say. He's been followin' ya so ta speak. All of us have. We watched ya, an' how ya tried ta save dat Queens kid." Mouse said solemnly. Grabs bristled. "You guys were behind it? Dat was a big piece of doity woik ya did! Killin' off Archer dat way! An' shootin' me in da process!" He said angrily. Mouse stared at him, waiting for the end of the tirade. "It was fer yer own good. Yer in too deep now Grabs. Ya've trespassed on an important business matta. Well, me boss' business matta." Grabs stared at the boy, his eyes angry and filled with spite. "I did what I had ta! An' plus, all dis ain't gonna do much good, 'cause I know who yer boss is!" He said triumphantly.   
  
Mouse's green eyes froze and his jaw went slightly slack. Grabs glared at him in triumph, but it was quickly silenced when Mouse grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close to his face. "Whaddya know?" He said, his voice bristled and icy. "Jest dat his name is Osca an' he's got a ting against me fadda!" Grabs said, his bravado suddenly gone. Mouse released him then stared at Grabs for a long time. "Ya sure dats da extent of yer knowledge?" He asked dryly. Grabs nodded, feeling the red spot on his neck. "Well, it ain't my business what happens to ya. Dats me boss' business as I'm sure I've said before." He said, his iciness disappearing as quickly as it had come. He stood up and began to walk towards the door. "Dats it? What happens ta me? What happens to me sista?" Grabs called out, twisting in his seat to look at the boy. Mouse stopped and his green eyes penetrated Grabs' brown gaze in something Grabs might have recognized as pity. "You'll jest hafta wait kid. I ain't supposed ta act yet." Then he walked out the door and closed it quietly.  
  
Grabs sat in his seat for a few moments more before he leapt out of his seat and opened the door quietly. He peeked around the corner both ways. The hall was empty. He dashed out into it, his quiet pitter-pattering echoing slightly off the walls. He looked at the broken windows and crumbled buildings in careful observation. "Must be an abandoned house or buildin' or sometin'. Where am I?" He muttered to himself. Voices stopped him and he pressed his body in a slight niche in the wall. They were coming from another room that was also dimmly lit. "Ya sure dats what da boss said ta do?" A resentful voice whined. "Look dats what I was told alright. Ya don't hafta stawt yer whinin' again." The familiar voice of Mouse echoed out. "Look, we got da kid! Why Osca jest let us git Racetrack an' his little gang of sissies down here an' slaughter 'em?" The angry voice continued.  
  
"Because DICE, Osca said not ta. It ain't in da plan." Mouse said insistently. "An' I suppose dat Osca told YOU all 'bout it." Mouse was silent for a moment. "No he didn't. He jest said dat it ain't what we're gonna do." The angry voice, identified as Dice, snorted. "So we're jest gonna sit down here an' twiddle our thumbs waitin' fer Osca an' Morris ta give da woid?" Dice said. "Dats about da size of it." Mouse replied patiently. "Well I cain't do dat! Look Mouse, here we are, part of one of da most powerful undaground societies, jest waitin' ta show ourselves ta da whole woild, an' Osca wants ta waste dat moment by pickin' off dumb forma Newsboys? It's insane!" Dice was angry, more than angry, his pride was hurt, Grabs realized as he listened with bated breath. "I know Dice, but if dats da way Osca wants it, dats da way its gonna be." Mouse said quietly. "Well I cain't wait dat long Mouse. I'm gonna leave an' stawt new if dere ain't some action soon!" Dice yelled. "Cool it Dice! Jest cool it! If ya woulda let me finish before, I woulda told ya dat its almost time. We jest need a little more time." Mouse retorted.  
  
Dice was finally silent, subdued by Mouse's patient remark. "So, we're gonna go through wit' da plan?" Dice asked finally. "Yeah. Jest as long as sometin' don't go wrong." Dice scoffed. "What else could go wrong?" Mouse laughed, but not a pleasant laugh. "Huh, jest a few minutes ago you was slammin' da plan. Makes me question yer loyalty." Mouse said quietly. "I ain't questionin' nothin' Mouse. It's jest," Dice was suddenly cut off by a blow of gunfire. Grabs gasped and pressed himself harder into the wall. "Sorry Dice. Had ta do it. Boss' ordas. I told ya not ta question his authority." Mouse said quietly. Grabs watched with wide eyes as the slight shadow of Mouse stood over the dead body and placed his gun back in his pocket. Mouse walked out into the hall and began to shuffle down it. Grabs breathed out slightly and nearly gasped aloud as Mouse halted midstep. He whirled around to face the dark corridor. He listened, then began to walk down it slowly, watching and listening. Grabs held his breath as Mouse came within a few feet of him. "Hey Mouse. C'mere. Ya do da deed?" A familiar voice came to Grabs' ears, accompanied by an inaudible sigh of relief.  
  
Mouse stopped within a few feet of Grabs hiding place and turned back down the hall. "Yeah, I did it. Wish we didn't hafta." Mouse said regretfully. "I know, but he was a weak link in da chain. Had ta do it. Wouldn't have been good fer da team. Pity he couldn't wait. We're goin' through wit' da plan." Grabs heard Mouse's quick intake of breath. "Boss, what are we gonna do? I mean, ya haven't really told us anytin'. We've been followin' ya blind, an' sometimes, if ya don't mind my sayin's so, it ain't da best way ta go." Mouse said quietly. "I know. Ya need ta git da boy. Bring him ta my place." Oscar said. "Boss, do we really need ta mix children in wit' dis? I mean, dat little goil ain't done anytin' ta us." Mouse's voice was pleading, which was another surprise to Grabs, who thought of the boy now as a cold blooded killing machine.   
  
"Mouse, dey saw us. Chances are dey know our plans. Dat boy saw us afta we shot Cowboy, an' he saw us kill Archer. He cain't stay alive an' ya know dat. What betta way ta git Racetrack an' his gang down here dan ta send him his first born's bloody body?" Oscar's voice was cold as steel as he spoke about the idea of murder matter-of-factly. "Boss, I don't kill kids." Mouse said quietly. "No you don't. But I do. Yer jest da delivery boy. Dis is da way ta git Race, Bright, an' probably even Spot down here. We kin kill two boids wit' one stone. Now, git da kid. It won't do no good for him not ta see me, since his pitiful life is gonna end soon." Oscar said maliciously.  
  
  
"Boss, dis is a big intrusion, but why do ya hate 'em so much." Mouse asked after walking a few steps away. "Because dey was joiks ta me. Dey teased not only me, but me brudda an' da way we woiked. I might not be able ta count, but at least I kin make livin' an keep me kid safe. Dat's more dan I kin say fer Race an' Bright. Look at 'em. Dey're gonna lose a kid, dey're foist born, an' possibly dey're daughta. Dey're awful parents. Plus I've got some scores ta settle wit' big mout' Race an' his equally big mout' wife Bright Eyes." He said, speaking the names with a tone of flint. "So dis is not only da comin' out of our organization, but yer revenge." Mouse said, a tone of understanding coming to his voice. "Yeah, now git da kid. Now." Oscar walked down the hall and Grabs listened as his footsteps disappeared in the distance.  
  
Grabs gulped air and pressed himself up against the wall again as Mouse walked down the hall. He walked slowly, increasing Grabs' chance of being found greatly. But he passed by Grabs and didn't even notice his presence. He walked down to the room where he thought Grabs was and entered it. "Awright kid. C'mon out. C'mon kid dis ain't funny. Osca wants ta see ya." Grabs breathed in and out quickly and took off down the hall, his footfalls sounding loudly in the halls. "Kid! Stop! Git ova here! Don't make me shoot you!" Mouse yelled, sliding out into the hall and drawing his pistol. Grabs didn't turn around but kept running as if his life depended on it. A bullet whizzed past his shoulder and narrowly missed him. Another cut a flap in his shirt as it blew past him. Grabs saw a door and he ran towards it, but stumbled and fell, at the feet of a man. He looked up and squinted in the darkness at the face. As realization overcame him, Mouse slid up to the two, his face pale. "Welcome ta da place Higgins. Hope you'll be happy here, for da time bein'." Oscar said cooly.  
  



	10. Showdown

After Grabs was dragged by Oscar into his office, he was wincing in pain from his side. He had been dragged uncerimoniously down the hall and it had wounded not only his body, but his pride. He had been caught, and now after hearing Oscar's words, he knew he would die. "I tried. I tried Fairy." He muttered under his breath as he was shoved into the room. He was forced into the stiff, unyielding wooden chair roughly. He sat there, giving Oscar a look of both hate and fear. He looked about the room and noticed then a second wooden chair. It's occupant was a whitefaced little girl with curly brown curls falling in her bright blue eyes. "Fairy." He croaked suddenly. The girl turned slightly and blinked her eyes, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Grabs! Oh it is you!" She whispered fervently as any prayer. But before the two could embrace, Oscar stepped between them.   
  
"Dere ain't no time fer dat now. So shove it." Oscar said firmly. He sat down in a third chair and stared at the two of them for a time. "So, ya ready ta die Grabs?" He asked shortly. Grabs drew himself up bravely, but still a glimmer of fear shone in his eyes. "If dere ain't no way outta it, den yeah. Sure. I'm jest along fer da ride an' if dis is da cawd life is dealin' me, well I cain't change da cawds." He said firmly. Oscar grinned. "Dats mighty big tawk fer Race's kid. Ya know dat yer fadda woulda tried ta cheat. Ya know dat?" Oscar said, scoffing. "Would he now? As far as I know, me fadda didn't win nothin' cheatin' or not." Grabs replyed, keeping on an air of confidence. This surprised Oscar, but it didn't put him off for a moment. "Yeah, I guess da one cheatin' was yer mudda." Grabs reddened, but he didn't show his anger. "You bet. Mama's da best cheatinest cawd playa I eva did see in Manhattan. Its 'most scandalous Osca." He countered bravely.  
  
Oscar's eyes widened in surprise, but then they dropped to their slits once more. "You got courage kid. Ya know who I am, but ya don't care?" Grabs shook his head. "I jest know dat yer name is Osca. Nothin' more. But I would like ta know why yer so blamed set on killin' me family. Dat ain't nice." He said. "No it ain't. But I won't go inta dat again, since ya ovaheard our tawk in da hallway dere. I suppose I should intraduce meself. Osca Delancy, leada of dis undawoild crime institution, which yer priveliged ta see in action." Oscar remarked, his pride shining through. "Yeah, I'm gonna be yer thoid victim is dat it?" Grabs said plainly, eyeing the man's hand playing about the gun in his belt. "Not quite yet. Ya see, I wanna show you whats gonna happen afta I git rid of ya. You an' yer little group. Come wit' me." He said, roughly pulling Grabs to his feet. Grabs grabbed Fairy's hand and held it tight as they followed the man.  
  
They walked down a series of corridors till they walked out a door and Grabs smelled fresh air. They were outside in a loading dock. The dock was filled with people, boys of all different sizes and ages. Most were men, but even the boys had the same rough look about them. "See dis? An' dat stuff dey're loadin'? Dat's me stuff dats gonna help me take ova New Yawk." Oscar said with pride. "Whats in 'em?" Grabs gulped. "Oh guns an' stuff." Oscar said cooly. Grabs shivered and held Fairy's hand tighter. "But dats beside da point. See Grabs, afta I kill you, New Yawk ain't neva gonna be da same again. Dere's gonna be moida an' robbin' all ova da place. An' no one will know who done it. 'Cept us. An' yer gonna stawt it all. All because ya had ta be snoopy." Oscar smirked. Grabs stared at the scene, tight-lipped and pale. "Makes ya feel real good don't it?" Oscar hissed. Grabs ducked his head away from the man.  
  
"Lets git inside Grabs. You an' me got business don't we?" Oscar said, separating Fairy's grasp from Grabs. Fairy began to shriek loudly as one of the boys grabbed her quickly, his large arms holding her tightly. Oscar grabbed Grabs arm and began to jerk him towards the door. Grabs tried to struggle, but the arm that Oscar held was the one on the side that he had wouned at Queens. As a last act of rebellion, he placed his feet against the walls of the door and refused to move, making Oscar push and shove him uncerimoniously. Suddenly, Oscar nearly dropped him as something whizzed by his head. "I'd let him go Delancy. If I was you." Oscar looked up on the rooftop and Grabs and the other men did the same. Boys and men shot up from the rooftop, slingshots at the ready. In front of them all, stood Spot, Sketch and Jade on either side of him, their slingshots ready.   
  
Oscar grinned. "You think dat marbles is gonna stop us Conlon? I don't think so! Gentlmen! Now!" The men all drew pistols from their belts and began to shoot at Brooklyn. Brooklyn promptly dropped behind the wall, the bullets missing them all. "Watch out fer Fairy!" Grabs shrieked as the men were hit hard by the marbles. Oscar began to drag him back in, but he fought him with all his might. Suddenly, Oscar was knocked flat and he lost his hold on Grabs. Grabs jumped up holding his side and found himself into the arms of Racetrack. "Hey kid. Long time no see." He said, holdin his son in his arms fiercely. "Gotta fight. Wanna help?" Racetrack asked with a twinkle in his eye. "Yeah! We gots ta save Fairy!" Grabs said quickly. Racetrack nodded and the two of them plowed their way through the men.  
  
Grabs looked around him as he ran and suddenly a familiar figure caught his eye. There was a person beating the living daylights out of a boy who had chanced to try to climb the roof near Brooklyn. Grabs gasped as he realized who it was. "Papa! Dats Mama!" He said quickly. "I told ya she was a good fighter!" Racetrack grunted, punching another man to the ground. "An' dere's Blue an', an', Papa! Like all yer Newsies pals is here!" He said in surprise. "Of course. You kids mean alot, an' we weren't about ta let ya go widout a fight." Racetrack said, flashing a smile at his son. "But, even da way we was actin'?" Racetrack nodded. "Yup. But lets tawk 'bout it later! We's got a fight ta finish." Grabs grinned first at his father, then at the victorious Sketch, who struck yet another man down with his fists and slingshot. "Heya Sketch! Havin' fun?" Grabs yelled. Sketch punched a man, then looked at him and grinned. "I've neva had so much fun Higgins. Dis is wondaful!" He said. "How'd ya find me?" Grabs yelled, as he punched and hit the opposition. "Follered ya. Saw ya leave an' den when I saw ya go in, I got da uddas." Sketch said very matter-of-factly. "Well it sure took ya long enough Conlon." Grabs said in mock anger. Sketch grinned. "I know. I won't take so long again." He said. Grabs grinned and threw another swing contentedly. But strong arms came around Grabs and he felt himself being dragged away from his father and Sketch, large hands covering his mouth. He tried to scream to get his father's attention, but it was no use. He was dragged back into the building and thrown to the floor.  
  
"So yer friends an' family came fer a reunion eh? Well we'll settle dat. Even if I cain't git dem, I kin sure as hell git you." Oscar snarled, pulling his pistol out and pointing it at Grabs. "I wouldn't count on it Osca." An icy voice called out. Oscar looked up as Mouse emerged from the shadows, two pistols in his hand, both pointed at Oscar's heart. Oscar's eyebrows raised, and he grinned. "So, yer toinin' traita Mouse. Afta all we been through." Mouse scoffed. "Yeah, I am. I told ya, I don't kill kids. An' I don't like waste, an' dats jest what dis is. Killin' him won't make up fer how much ya hate an' wanna kill Race. It jest won't Osca. Face it. It's ova. Ya cain't win. Look outside. Dey're beatin' da hides out of us. Give it up." Mouse said reasonably.  
  
"NO!" Oscar screamed, and as he did, he fired a shot at Mouse. Mouse ducked and in fired another back at him in turn. Oscar also ducked, but it was a very narrow miss. "I'm givin' ya da chance ta leave da kid an' stawt ova wit' yer guys somewhere else. Widout me." Mouse said, taking a step closer, the guns not wavering at all. "Ha! Ya tink I'm gonna buy dat? Yeah right! Neva!" Mouse took another step closer. "Jest do it Osca. It's betta if ya jest git it ova wit'. Tink of it dis way. I'm sparin' yer life, AN' I'm lettin' ya keep yer little mafia. Jest do it, an' I won't shoot ya. An' ya know I don't miss Osca. Ya didn't see me miss Dice, or any of dose uddas ya asked me ta 'dispose' of." Mouse said, his lip curling in indignation.   
  
"Well, I'll tink about it." Oscar said, his tone suddenly softening. Grabs looked up at him, startled. He didn't like that look in his eyes, it was a lying gaze. "When?" Mouse asked, not stirring. "Now." Oscar said, and he swiftly pulled the trigger on his gun. "NO!" Grabs screamed as the bullet shot through Mouse. Mouse's eyes widened and he slumped to the floor, the pistols falling with a clang. Grabs stared at him in wide-eyed terror, just as he had when Archer had been killed. "Jest like in Queens eh Higgins? An' jest like in Queens, I'm gonna shoot ya, but dis time I won't miss." Oscar said spitefully, cocking his gun and pointing it straight at Grabs. "Not today Delancy!" Grabs turned behind him and saw Mouse standing again, his face pale, but radiant. He shot his pistol and it hit Oscar as he lunged towards him.   
  
But the bullet didn't stop him and he lunged on top of Mouse, knocking the pistol to the ground. Grabs stood and watched in terror as the two grappled with each other on the floor. He watched in panic, not knowing what to do. But then he grabbed Oscar's pistol on the floor, pointed it nervously, and shot. The force knocked him down. When the smoke cleared and he stood, the two men were still. "Oh God I killed 'em both." He muttered softly. Then the bodies began to stir and Grabs covered his head as he thought he saw Oscar move. But it wasn't Oscar who had stood before him.   
  
It was Mouse. "Mouse! Yer, yer not dead!" Grabs said, joyfully running to him. "No I ain't dead yet. I've got me whole life ta live before I die by da likes of him, although I'll be set off by dis here shoulda." Mouse remarked casually, fingering the bullet hole in his shoulder. "Yeah but, at least yer alive. I want ya ta meet me Papa an' Mama! I bet dey've all licked dose guys out dere! Lets go!" Grabs said, taking hold of Mouse's hand. "But wait, what about Osca?" Grabs asked, turning around. The two boys stared in disbelief at the floor where Oscar had fallen. He was gone, leaving behind him a puddle of his blood. Mouse shook his head. "Well, he'll be back. Dats all I kin say. I guess he took me advice. Now lets go meet yer folks." Mouse said solemnly, taking the boy's hand and walking out the door.  
  
  
  
  



	11. Epilogue

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Epilogue.  
  
  
Jack woke up not long after the triumphant ending of Oscar Delancy's boys, those that were left, promptly fled in their leader's footsteps only to meet up again with him. They did start their underground crime society again, but left the Newsies strictly alone. Oscar carried the scar of a bullet hole in his back forever, as a constant reminder of the little boy who shot him. Mouse took up being a Newsie and found it most interesting, a far cry from his former life, but his interests were fulfilled when Spot taught him how to use a slingshot instead of a gun. "I know what it's like wantin' jest ta kill sometin'. So I thought it best I guess." Spot remarked, almost sheepishly. Mouse had grinned, but said nothing, stroking the wood gently.  
  
Jack's awakening was a new beginning for him. He felt it unfair that HE had started all the adventures, but he had missed out on ALL of it. But he didn't have to worry, for he was going to have his own adventures very soon. After that, Jack met a beautiful, but bold young girl in a machine shop. He fell in love with her and she likewise confessed her attachment to him. He courted her and they were married not long after. Racetrack and Bright Eyes' children came out of this mishap without very much harm, but it wasn't to be the end. As the children grew, their adventures came and went, all of them taking them on whole heartedly. Even young Taps became quite a rogue in his older years, causing almost as much havoc in the streets as all his siblings put together. The Higgins children and indeed all of the Newsies' children, grew up together, laughed together, and shared their adventures with each other.  
  
Racetrack stared at the sky at the countless stars and the brilliant moon, wondering if life could be any more perfect. His children were safe at last and so was his wife, and himself of course. "God, PLEASE don't let anytin' dis bad happen ta us again." Racetrack pleaded under his breath. "Whatcha doin' Race? Tawkin' ta da moon?" Bright Eyes asked as she walked out into the night, slipping her body into the crook of his arm. "Yeah I guess. Ya know Bright, dis wasn't so bad. It coulda been woise." Bright Eyes smacked him across the head. "Coulda been woise? It was a nightmare! It couldn'ta gotten any woise!" She said disdainfully. "I know, I'm jest playin' witcha. I guess it's a time fer new beginnin's huh?" Racetrack laughed, holding her close.   
  
Bright Eyes pushed herself closer to him as her face turned red. "Speakin' of new beginnin's, I need ta tell ya sometin'." She pushed her face closer to his and brushed a few stray hairs away from his ear. "I'm gonna have anudda baby." She whispered as the wind blew around them. Racetrack started, held her away from him and looked at her glowing face. Then he held her close in a crushing embrace. "Dats great. Dats jest great. Ya know I love ya?" He whispered. "Of course. How could I tink uddawise?" Bright Eyes whispered back, a tone of humor in her voice. As Racetrack held Bright Eyes close to his heart the wind blew around them harshly, threatening to blow them over. But in his heart Racetrack knew that no matter how many winds blew and tried to destroy him and his family, they could withstand it. They could and would withstand any storm, and that set his heart at peace.  
  
  



End file.
